The Year of the Toad
by Musicangel913
Summary: Still reeling from the disastrous aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry, Draco, and Hermione begin their fifth year at Hogwarts. As they delve deeper into the prophecy, Ministry interference and an awful new professor who insists that their fears aren't real make it increasingly difficult to stay afloat in an ever-darkening Wizarding world. Twisted canon, part 5.
1. We Have a Problem

**A/N: Welcome back! This story is part 5 of my twisted canon series - if you haven't read parts 1-4, I would highly recommend doing so if you don't want to be confused going forward. Part 1 is called 'Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio' & can be found on my profile.**

**And off we go...**

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><p><em>"Expelliarmus!"<em>

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Impedimenta!"_

"Hey, Harry – bloody Merlin, stop! _Finite Incantatem!"_

Harry Potter, Draco Black, and Hermione Granger lowered their wands and turned to stare sheepishly at the frozen form of Sirius Black, who was gaping in shock at the dagger quivering precariously close to his left ear.

"Who threw that?" he asked weakly, gesturing towards the knife. Harry and Hermione immediately pointed at the blond standing between them.

"Oh, I see how it is," Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes in as exaggerated a fashion as possible. "Really feeling the love here, you two."

"Oh, don't whine, it's unbecoming," Hermione said. "And so is questioning our love for you." She turned Draco's face with her hand so she could press her lips to his, and when Draco moved to deepen the kiss, Harry coughed and said, "Get a room, you two!" Draco pulled away and smirked.

"And how do you intend to prove your love for me, Harry?" he asked, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I don't really fancy having my own brother snog me."

"Ugh, no!" Harry quickly agreed. "Hermione can have you…and stop being an arse, it was a good throw."

"It was," Sirius agreed, struggling for a moment to extract the knife from the wall. "It's a little scary how quickly you've taken to it, actually." Finally succeeding in freeing the knife, he finished descending the basement steps and presented the weapon to Draco, who tucked it into the sheath at his hip. The knife was actually one of a set of four, two pairs of beautifully crafted, goblin-wrought blades that had, until recently, sat with the other weaponry in the Black family vault. The knives had once belonged to two Black brothers and their spouses some two centuries before, and as Draco and Harry both had blood ties to the line, Sirius had given them the blades near the beginning of the summer holidays, insisting that they learn to wield another weapon in addition to their wands. The pair to Draco's knife had gone to Hermione, and since Harry didn't yet have anyone to give his to, it was currently locked in the safe in Sirius' room. Upon the trio's return to Surrey, Sirius had transformed the entire basement into a heavily fortified dueling space, much like their practice arena in the Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts, and they'd been practicing with their new weapons ever since. Draco had proven exceptionally adept at wielding the little knife, hitting nearly every target with deadly precision.

"I just came down to tell you that lunch will be ready in a half hour or so, and that we've got something to share with you all," Sirius said. He wrinkled his nose then and added, "And you might want to consider a quick shower before then – you stink!"

"Padfoot!"

"What? It's true. Three teenagers who've been dueling heavily for nearly two hours? Yuck!" Sirius grinned mischievously then, shrinking into his dog form and thoroughly licking their faces before bounding back up the stairs, his bark sounding suspiciously like laughter as he vanished.

"Now I really need a shower," Hermione grumbled as she wiped her face on her sleeve. "Sometimes I wonder how you two can stand to live with him."

"Maya, you basically live with him too," Harry pointed out.

"Fair point. Are we ready for lunch, then?"

"You had to ask?"

"Again, fair point."

They were halfway up the stairs when Draco suddenly stopped.

"Hey…where's my wand?"

"Hmm…you mean this wand?" Hermione smirked and withdrew a wand from her pocket that was most definitely not her own.

"How'd you get that?" he demanded. He tried to reach for the wand, but Hermione hopped down a few steps until she was just out of reach.

"You were a little preoccupied a minute ago, weren't you?" Hermione replied, her smirk widening. It only took Draco a moment to realize what she meant.

"You stole my wand while we were kissing?" he said incredulously. "You little minx…"

"Constant vigilance, love," Hermione said, blowing him a kiss.

"Oh, you'll pay for that, Lotte!" Without another word, Draco leapt back down the basement stairs, landing on all fours like a cat, and took off across the room after Hermione, who shrieked and bolted almost instantly. Draco's longer legs meant it wasn't long at all before he caught up to her, and the two collapsed to the floor in a heap of laughter.

"I'll just leave you two to it, then," Harry said with a chuckle, very quickly noticing that his brother and best friend probably wouldn't be joining him anytime soon. "If nothing else, it means I get the hottest shower!"

Nearly an hour later, Harry, Draco, and Hermione had finally joined Sirius and Lily in the kitchen, where an enormous plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of cold lemonade waited for them. Quite hungry from their extensive workout, they dug in eagerly, and the next few minutes were quiet as they enjoyed their lunches.

"So what did you want to talk to us about?" Harry asked as he reached for a third sandwich. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged in reply – fifteen-year-old boys _did_ have huge appetites, after all.

"Oh, that," Sirius said, taking another sandwich as well. "Well, we might be relocating in a week or so."

"Relocating?" Draco repeated. Sirius nodded.

"Yup. Dumbledore's been busy this summer contacting the Order, and he wants everyone within easy reach of Headquarters. Since Headquarters is my house anyway, he suggested we just move in for the rest of the summer."

"Um…aren't we already _in_ your house, Padfoot?" Harry asked, gesturing around the kitchen with his free hand.

"I mean my ancestral house – the Black family house in London," Sirius clarified. "You've been there before, although not since we moved here, so I doubt you remember it much. Eccentric old place, but there will be plenty there to keep you occupied, at any rate."

"Who else will be there?" Hermione wanted to know. "And do my parents know about this?"

"We've already spoken to your parents, dear – they said they'll miss having you around, but they agree that it's for the best," Lily said. "Besides, they have those conferences all through August, don't they?" Hermione nodded. Her parents, both dentists, had an unusually busy schedule this summer, and they'd be spending almost all of August traveling to different conventions throughout the UK.

"As for who's going to be there, I'm not quite sure," Sirius continued. "The house is pretty big, but not big enough to house the entire Order – most people will just pop in and out as they need to. Unless I'm very much mistaken, though, the Weasleys will be spending most of their time there with us." The teenagers brightened considerably at the thought of spending the rest of the summer with their close friends, and the conversation turned to details such as their departure date and what they needed to pack.

"So why are we moving into Headquarters, anyway?" Harry asked as they cleaned up after lunch. "Dumbledore must have a reason for wanting everyone nearby."

"He does," Sirius replied, and Harry, Draco, and Hermione gave him their full attention when they noticed the considerable darkening of his tone. "You see, there's been a bit of a problem."

"A bit of a problem?" Draco repeated.

"Ok, a big problem," Sirius amended. "The Ministry – Fudge specifically – didn't believe Dumbledore when he told them how Cedric Diggory died."

_"What?"_ Harry cried, sounding both angry and horrified. As long as he lived, he would never forget the horrible note that had been attached to Cedric's lifeless body, the Dark Mark stamped beneath blood-red words: _I have no use for spares._

"Well, Fudge has always been a bit of an idiot, but he's really gone off his rocker this time," Sirius continued. "He's absolutely insisting that Cedric's death was an accident and that Voldemort can't possibly be back in England – he just doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong, because he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know how to deal with it."

"That's a pathetic excuse if I've ever heard one," Harry hissed. "What the bloody hell is he telling everyone, then?"

"Language, Harry," Lily chided.

"That's the thing – he's not telling them anything," Sirius said, ignoring Lily's reprimand. "Cedric's obituary was in the _Prophet,_ but it didn't mention the specifics of _how_ he died, just that it was during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament – I think everyone thinks he ran afoul of a magical creature or something. Personally, I'm just glad Rita Skeeter hasn't gotten wind of anything yet – she'd have a field day, that's for sure." Harry, Draco, and Hermione exchanged satisfied looks. Of course Rita Skeeter hadn't published anything, and she wouldn't be doing so anytime soon, either – Hermione had discovered her secret at the end of the previous term and had threatened to reveal Skeeter's status as an illegal Animagus if the reporter didn't keep her quill to herself for the next year.

"In any case, Fudge isn't correcting the assumptions, and as a result, Dumbledore is having a hard time convincing anyone who wasn't there that night that his story is the truth. That's why he got in touch with the Order so quickly – people have been scattered all over the place for the last few years, doing surveillance missions, looking into Voldemort's whereabouts, things like that – but now that we're almost positive he's back in the country, Dumbledore needs to focus on rallying the troops, on gathering together everyone he can who is unquestionably on his side."

"I'll bet Fudge is thrilled about that," Hermione said.

"Oh, he's livid. Of course, he just thinks Dumbledore is after his job – never mind that Dumbledore's turned down the Minister position more than once, Fudge has been paranoid since day one. I'm sure he's already looking for other ways to undermine Dumbledore, so we're going to have to be very careful."

"Constant vigilance," Harry said, repeating the mantra they'd heard many times before.

"Constant vigilance indeed," Sirius agreed.

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><p><strong>AN: Hello again! If you've made it this far with me, THANK YOU - lots of plans going forward, so I hope you stick around!**

**Also...Happy New Year! Just over 2 hours to go here, but close enough. If you're in the mood for a NYE-themed story, I've got one up called '1999: The Year of the Badger' - fun little one-shot I posted for my youngest sister's birthday back in February, contains a little bit of both Dramione & Harry/Ginny, plus the glorious fun that is George Weasley. (Shameless plug, haha)**

**Alrighty, enough of that. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	2. The Blasted off the Tapestry Club

True to Sirius' estimate, the Potter-Blacks plus Hermione left Surrey exactly one week later, just a few days before Harry's fifteenth birthday. Much to Harry's chagrin, they took the Knight Bus to London – the Floo connection to Sirius' ancestral home was highly restricted, Apparating was impossible thanks to their vast amounts of luggage, and there was no way to park Lily's car outside an invisible house without arousing suspicion. Once they'd all been let in on the Fidelius Charm, travel to and from the house would be much easier, but that morning, they dragged their trunks to the front walk and watched as Sirius stuck out his wand arm. A brilliantly purple triple-decker bus materialized by the curb, and they climbed aboard.

In reality, the trip to London took no time at all, but it felt like forever to the unfortunate occupants of the bus, who were thrown forwards, backwards, and sideways as the bus jumped through space and hurtled down impossibly narrow roads. By the time the bus stopped at the end of a small cul-de-sac called Grimmauld Place, Harry, Draco, and Hermione were bruised, sore, and more than ready to never see the unsettling vehicle again. The conductor, an exceptionally pimply youth called Stan Shunpike, was very cheerful as he helped them unload their belongings from the Knight Bus, and he had just enough time to tip his hat before the bus vanished once more.

"Follow me," Sirius instructed. He glanced around the cul-de-sac before surreptitiously drawing his wand and casting a feather-light spell on their luggage, and he began to drag his own trunk down the street. He stopped on the walkway about halfway around the cul-de-sac and waited expectantly for the others to catch up.

"Read this," he said, handing over a slip of parchment. "Read it, and memorize it." Lily took the parchment from his hand and held it where everyone could see. In narrow, loopy handwriting were the following words:

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

Harry looked from the note to the row of houses before him and frowned.

"But Padfoot," he began, "there must be some mistake – there is no…oh, now that's cool…"

Harry's incomplete thought was due to the sudden appearance of a house that he could've sworn simply hadn't been there before. The house shouldered numbers eleven and thirteen to the sides as smoothly as if nothing had happened at all, and in an instant, the houses' numbering was sequential once more.

"Off we go," Sirius said, grabbing the handle of his trunk and pulling it up the front steps. Up close, the house was clean but shabby, with chipped paint and more than one cracked window visible, and a large knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent hung on the front door. Ignoring the knocker, Sirius placed his palm upon the door, waited a moment, and twisted the knob once they all heard the click of disengaging locks.

"Recognizes my blood," he said by way of explanation. "In you go, and stay quiet – the last thing you want to do is wake up my mum."

"Your mum?" Harry asked, looking confused. "I thought your mum was dead."

"Oh, she is," Sirius assured him. "Just get inside, will you? Can't stay out here too long or the Muggles will notice us disappearing."

The inside of the house was just as rundown as the outside. Old-fashioned gas lamps and a large chandelier flared to life as they stepped into the main hall, and a wide staircase with many landings led to the upper floors. Closed doors led to what they assumed were rooms, and a thick set of curtains covered an alcove to the right of the door at the foot of the stairs. A coat rack and umbrella stand, the latter shaped like a troll's leg, stood next to the banister, and a number of portraits covered the peeling wallpaper.

"Cheery place you've got here," Harry commented.

"Yeah, well, I never said I liked it here," Sirius replied with a snort. "Aside from a brief stint just before I moved in with you and your mum, I haven't lived here since I was sixteen. Now, let's see where we can put you."

Before they could climb the stairs, a door at the end of the hall opened, and three people emerged: Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and a young woman they didn't recognize, her short, spiky hair a vibrant shade of pink.

"Ooooh, they're here!" the woman said excitedly, moving forward to get a closer look. In her haste, she didn't look where she was going and ran headlong into the umbrella stand, which fell over with a crash, the hapless witch sprawled on top of it.

"Oh, damn!" she cried. "I didn't mean to, I swear-" Whatever else she meant to say, however, was drowned out by someone else.

"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS! MUGGLE-LOVING SCUM, BLOOD TRAITORS, _GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!"_

The curtains over the alcove at the base of the stairs had flown open, revealing a life-sized portrait of a woman, who was shouting with all her might at the occupants of the hall. Her eyes narrowed with rage when she caught sight of Sirius.

"YOU!" she screamed. "HOW _DARE_ YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE? YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF BEARING THE NAME YOU DO, YOU ABSOLUTE DISGRACE-"

"Oh, shut UP!" Sirius growled. "With an almighty lurch, he wrenched the curtains back into place, the portrait they concealed falling into silence as soon as the gap closed.

"Mother dearest is dead, but certainly not gone," he said, cocking his head towards the hidden portrait. "Put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the damn thing, and as you've no doubt noticed, _everything_ wakes her up – we even had to move the grandfather clock into the sitting room, didn't we, Dumbledore?"

"Indeed we did," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "It would have been a shame to get rid of it – it's quite a lovely timepiece." He then glanced at the young woman, who was still draped over the toppled umbrella stand.

"My dear Tonks, I do believe you can get up off the floor now," he said, sounding amused.

"I'm sorry," the woman – Tonks, apparently – repeated, her voice muffled. She lifted her head and looked at them, her expression sheepish. "I just get so excited…"

"That you forget that it's there," Lupin finished, also looking entertained. Tonks stuck her tongue out at him before hauling herself up, and Lupin quickly righted the umbrella stand, sliding it as close to the staircase as possible.

"Wotcher," she said, winking at the newcomers. "How are you, cousin?"

"Well enough, thanks," Sirius replied, winking back. "Although I think that particular address might be more appropriate for this one here." He nudged Draco forward, and the blond immediately looked confused.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

"Tonks here is your cousin, Draco," Sirius said. "Her mum is your mother's sister."

"I didn't know that Aunt Bella had children," Draco said. Sirius shuddered visibly.

"I sure hope she doesn't," he said darkly. "Goodness, Drake, I didn't know you'd actually met that woman…anyway, no, Nymphadora-"

_"Don't_ call me that, Sirius," Tonks interrupted, her eyes flashing.

"Just for clarification," he assured her. "Nymphadora Tonks – who obviously prefers her surname over other forms of address – is the daughter of your mother's other sister, Andromeda."

"She was disowned coz she married a Muggle-born," Tonks supplied helpfully, and Draco's look of confusion morphed into one of understanding.

"Oh…wow," he said finally, a small grin spreading over his features, "I have a cousin!" He felt a little silly saying it, but he was far more excited than he was letting on – Sirius might've been his mother's cousin, but Tonks was _his_ cousin, and meeting such a close relative he hadn't even known he had was wonderful.

"And you'll find plenty to talk about, I'm sure," Dumbledore said. "For now, however, might I suggest getting these three upstairs to their rooms? I can't imagine we're all comfortable just standing here in your front hall, Sirius." Sirius let out a snort, nodded, and led the teenagers upstairs, where he found vacant rooms for them on the second landing.

"Make yourselves at home," he said, throwing open the doors. "Harry, Draco, you two can take this one, and Hermione, you'll be with Tonks next door. Ron and Ginny will probably join you whenever they get here."

The trio only took the time to unpack the bare essentials before setting off to explore the house. Sirius warned them not to touch anything if they could help it – while most of the Dark artifacts had been removed from the house when the Order took it over around the time of Harry's birth, he couldn't guarantee that everything was gone, and his mother had been known to set some pretty nasty hexes in her day. In spite of that restriction, however, there was still plenty to see, and Tonks, who had been living in the house for nearly two weeks already, supplied helpful stories about their finds whenever she could. Of particular interest was the gigantic tapestry in the drawing room upon which the Black family tree sprawled, the oldest names dating back to the Middle Ages and beyond. The golden thread shimmered slightly when the light caught it, and a number of holes littered the tapestry. At first, they thought perhaps the holes were merely the product of time, but when they looked closer, they saw that the holes were quite deliberate – there was a burn mark where Sirius' name should have been, and a quick glance to the side proved that Andromeda's name was gone as well. Tonks wasn't even on it at all.

"Well, Mum was disowned when she married Dad, so of course I wouldn't be on here," she said matter-of-factly. "Anyone who didn't conform to the Black family motto – _poof!"_ She mimed cursing the tapestry with her wand, then gestured to the very top, where large letters formed the words _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: Toujours Pur._

"'Always Pure' – what utter rubbish," she scoffed. "The family _might_ be completely pureblooded until about halfway down the tapestry, but after that? There's no way – even the so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' have to have half-bloods and Muggle-borns mixed in somewhere, or they wouldn't exist anymore. There simply aren't enough purebloods left."

"So is that who most of those burn marks are, then?" Harry asked, pointing to more spots a little further up the tapestry. Tonks shrugged.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," she said. "The motto alone should tell you that the Blacks were obsessed with keeping their line as pure as possible – Mum dared to marry a Muggle-born and I don't show up at all, so I think it's safe to say that only those who made 'appropriate' marriages managed to stay on the family tree."

"You're not on here, but I am," Draco said, running his fingers lightly over the thread spelling his name, his birthday scripted just below. The tapestry must've had a self-updating spell on it, as his mother's name featured both birth and death dates. Draco's name was off-center beneath those of his parents, and there was a large spot of something he couldn't identify marring the tapestry just to the left of it, but he didn't mind – however twisted it was, this was a record of his family.

"You're only on there coz whoever did all this blasting died before your mother handed you over to a Muggle-born," Tonks replied with a wink. "Face it, cousin, you're a proud member of the 'Blasted off the Tapestry' Club." The teenagers howled with laughter at Tonks' proclamation, Harry even going so far as to suggest they make an official banner for their new club.

"You could join too, Harry," Tonks reminded him. "Somewhere along the lines, a Black married a Potter, but your branch of the family isn't on here."

"Well, Mum's a Muggle-born," Harry pointed out, chuckling a little.

"We'll get the Weasleys in on it too – both Molly and Arthur are related to Sirius somehow, but since they're basically the biggest bunch of blood traitors to ever exist, they're not on the tapestry."

"I'm starting to feel left out," Hermione said with a mock pout.

"Oh, come now, Lotte – you know you're practically a member yourself," Draco said. "Someday down the road, I'll get myself blasted off for real for marrying a Muggle-born and make it official, but for now, consider yourself in." Hermione turned scarlet and buried her face in her hands as Harry and Tonks burst into raucous laughter, and Draco took advantage of their hysteria to give Hermione a kiss on the forehead and a whispered "love you".

Late that afternoon, Mrs. Black's portrait started shouting again as the Weasleys poured into Grimmauld Place. Nobody bothered to close the curtains until the hall had cleared out, since they were all making such a racket that it wouldn't have made a difference. Ginny and Ron added their trunks to Harry and Draco's and Tonks and Hermione's rooms, while Fred and George were given space on the next landing up. The addition of the six Weasleys – Molly and Arthur were staying at headquarters as well – meant the house was rather crowded, but nobody seemed to mind, and dinner that night was a lively affair. The basement kitchen housed a wooden table more than large enough to accommodate all of the house's occupants, plus Dumbledore, Lupin, and a tall black man they learned was called Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley, as it transpired, was an Auror, as was Tonks, and the assembled teenagers listened with interest as they told stories about their time on the job. It was very late indeed when everyone went upstairs to bed, and even later still when they finally fell asleep.

On the last morning of July, Harry was awoken by someone pouncing on the end of his bed. He blearily opened his eyes and yelped when he noticed the unfamiliar figure of a witch perched by his feet. The witch had bright blue hair that fell to her shoulders and deep brown eyes, and she wore a mischievous grin that Harry thought he'd seen before but couldn't place.

"Wotcher, Harry," the witch said with a wink, and Harry's mouth fell open in recognition.

_"Tonks?"_ he stammered in disbelief. His disbelief gave way to shock as the witch's hair started receding and changing color before his eyes – within seconds, it was once more spiky and bright pink, and her eyes were back to the lighter brown shade he recognized.

"How did you _do_ that?" Draco asked. He'd woken just in time to witness the transformation and was now gaping at his cousin.

"Metamorphmagus," Tonks said, flashing her signature impish grin. "It means I can change my appearance at will – I was born one, you know. Dead useful in the Stealth and Tracking part of Auror training…and for playing pranks," she added cheekily. Harry immediately chucked his pillow at her head, hitting her full in the face.

"Looks like your chameleon skills don't stop you from being solid," he retorted playfully. Tonks immediately picked up the pillow and shoved Harry back onto the mattress, tussling with him until he finally relented.

"You were saying?" Tonks asked. Harry was too busy laughing to answer.

"I thought so. Anyway, breakfast is almost ready, and the post just came – your Hogwarts letters are here." Tonks pulled three envelopes from her robes and tossed them in the general direction of their owners. Ron, who had somehow managed to sleep through the pillow fight, grunted and pulled his blankets further over his head, muttering something unintelligible as he rolled over.

"BREAKFAST IS ALMOST READY!" Tonks repeated quite loudly, and everyone laughed as Ron predictably shot upright at the mention of food.

"See you in a few." Tonks gave them one last wink and left.

"Wonder what we need for books this year," Harry remarked as he broke the seal on his envelope.

"Just two," Draco replied, his letter already open on the bed. "The latest in the _Standard Book of Spells_ series, and what I'm guessing is a book for Defense."

"So I guess Dumbledore found us a new teacher, eh?"

Draco didn't answer. When Harry glanced over, he saw his brother was staring at something in his hand.

"Drake? What's up?" In response, Draco tossed the object in his hand towards Harry, who caught it easily thanks to his Quidditch-honed reflexes. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that the object was a small silver badge, a block letter 'P' superimposed on a serpent – Harry had seen that particular image on Draco's Hogwarts robes more than enough times to recognize the emblem of Slytherin House.

"You're a prefect!" he said in awe. "Drake, that's great!"

"You're not…upset about that?" Draco asked, accepting the badge back and lightly tracing the engraving.

"Why would I be?" Harry wondered, looking perplexed.

"Did you get one, then?"

"No," Harry said, tipping his envelope upside down to prove it, "but why would me not being a prefect make me upset that you are one?"

"I dunno, I just…hey, I'll bet I know why you didn't!" Draco said suddenly.

"Why's that?"

"Because you're probably the next in line for Gryffindor's Quidditch captaincy, that's why. From what I understand, it's really rare for someone to be both a prefect _and_ a Quidditch captain, because of the amount of extra work both positions entail – there really has to be no other acceptable candidate for them to give both badges to the same person."

"You think I'll be Quidditch captain?" Harry asked in shock. Draco rolled his eyes as if the answer was extremely obvious.

"Of _course_ you'll be Quidditch captain – you're only what, the youngest player in over a century? Not to mention you're brilliant at it. One of your Chasers will probably get it this year, since they've been on the team longer and everybody knows that giving the Weasley twins any sort of power is a terrible idea, but I guarantee it'll be you next year."

"God, if one of my brothers got picked as Quidditch captain, I'm not going back to school this year," a sleepy Ron managed to say.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh at Ron's thoroughly disheveled state.

"Coz Draco's right – giving either of them an authority position is akin to signing your own death warrant," Ron said.

"Ronnie dear, you wound us." The boys looked up to see Fred and George, who had stuck their heads into the room in time to hear the end of their conversation. "Your lack of faith in us is astounding – and what's this about Harry being Quidditch captain?"

"Well, I'm not this year," Harry corrected them quickly, "but Draco seems to think I'll get it next year."

"Probably," Fred agreed. "The only other person left will be Katie, and she's always been more of a follower than a leader, so I'd say you have a fair shot. And did I hear talk of a prefect's badge?"

"Yeah – Draco's got one."

"Ah…guess we'll have to watch our step around young Mr. Black from now on," George said seriously.

"And myself, it seems," another voice chimed in. Hermione had joined them and moved across the room to sit on the edge of Draco's bed. She reached out her hand in a silent request, and he handed her his badge. She then opened her other hand to reveal her own, identical to Draco's save for the lion in place of the serpent.

"Hermione too?" Fred moaned. "George, our pranking days are over!" He clutched a hand to his heart and proceeded to 'faint' dramatically onto Ron's bed, earning a yell of protest from his youngest brother.

"What about you two?" George asked, gesturing to Harry and Ron. "Did we get the other Gryffindor badge as well?" Ron snorted.

"Yeah, right," he said. "My marks are nowhere near good enough – and I know they consider other things, but there's no way." He slit open his own envelope and shook it as if to prove his point – no badge.

"And it's not me either," Harry added. "I wonder who got it, then?" Hermione shrugged.

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see," she said. She handed back Draco's badge and squeezed his hand in congratulations, Draco returning the gesture.

"Oh, keep it to yourself," Ron grumbled, rolling over so he didn't have to face the couple. The others laughed, and they soon made their way downstairs for breakfast.

The adults were all very proud and excited when they saw the badges, and as such, they organized an extra-special dinner for that night in joint celebration of Harry's birthday and Draco and Hermione's selection as prefects. A number of Order members they hadn't yet seen dropped by, including Professor McGonagall, who congratulated both of them warmly, and Professor Snape, who gave Draco a nod of approval and even managed a positive look in Hermione's direction. Mrs. Weasley concocted a gigantic cake in the shape of the Hogwarts crest, and Fred and George spent the afternoon crafting two enormous, colorful banners to hang in the kitchen – one said _Happy Birthday, Harry!,_ and the other, _Congratulations Draco and Hermione, New Prefects! _The banners sparkled in the candlelight and let off the occasional whistle or puff of glitter, much to the delight of the guests.

The highlight of the day, however, was Tonks and Ginny's birthday present for Harry. Tonks had told Ginny all about their examination of the tapestry, and the two girls had made yet another banner, along with a badge proclaiming Harry the official first member of the Blasted off the Tapestry Club. Harry laughed heartily when he opened the gift, and he insisted that everyone sign the banner before they hung it on the wall next to the tapestry itself. If the past few days were anything to go by, the remaining month of their summer holidays was definitely going to be a fun one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope 2015 is good to all of you. In honor of the occasion, here's chapter 2 - this one was a fun one to write, I love Tonks. (It also took me like 10 times longer than normal to write due to my attempt to watch the Rose Parade while writing...haha)**

**Thank you to everyone who has followed/faved/reviewed/read this story so far! Hope you'll stick around.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please leave me your thoughts, & enjoy! :)**


	3. Pranks and a bit of Post

Harry's prediction came true easily enough – whether it was a new visitor to talk to, a new room to explore, or a new prank to play, there was always something exciting going on at Grimmauld Place. Though the teenagers were strictly forbidden from attending the Order meetings, they still met nearly every Order member who dropped by, and Fred and George livened things up a bit when they decided to test some trick sweets they'd been developing on their unsuspecting friends, causing Harry to suddenly turn into a giant canary in the middle of a chess match against Ron.

"What the-" Harry stammered and spluttered, brushing bright yellow feathers out of his hair as he slowly returned to his normal size and shape. The rest of the room's occupants were howling with laughter, and George had fallen off his chair he was laughing so hard.

"Canary Creams!" he crowed, holding his sides and wiping away tears of mirth. "And you thought it was just a normal custard…"

"Bastard," Harry muttered back, though he couldn't help but grin. Even if he didn't exactly appreciate being turned into a bird without warning, he couldn't deny that the magic behind it was brilliant – if the rest of their preliminary ideas were this good, the twins would have no problems pursuing their dream of opening a joke shop.

The following morning, Mrs. Weasley and Lily gathered everyone's book lists and headed for Diagon Alley, while Tonks and the teenagers decided to kill the time until their return by exploring some more. They'd already combed over most of the bedrooms, but there was still a lot to see, and they decided to start with the drawing room. The 'Blasted off the Tapestry Club' banner still hung proudly next to the family tree tapestry, and just beneath it was a display case of sorts. The shelves within housed a number of strange objects, and they began to examine them with interest. There were a number of vials containing what looked horribly like blood resting next to a short, rusty sword, its blade crusted over with a dark substance none of them could identify. A pretty music box inlaid with jewels played a haunting melody when wound, and it was only when Ginny had the sense to slam it shut that they realized it had also been charming them to sleep. On the final shelf sat a heavy golden locket decorated with emeralds, and a little silver snuffbox. Nothing they tried had any effect on the locket, but the snuffbox opened easily, and Harry yelped and promptly dropped it on the floor when the substance inside came into contact with his bare skin, causing his hands to develop a thick, crusty coating.

"Wartcap powder," Tonks said after a brief examination of his hands. "Unfortunately, I don't know the counter-spell, but if Remus is around, he might be able to help."

"Sure," Harry agreed, regarding his transformed hands with disgust. Even though it had happened many times in the last few weeks, it still felt weird hearing his former professor referred to by his first name, but he was willing to forget that for a moment if it meant having the spell reversed.

They found Lupin in the kitchen, his feet propped up on the bench across from him as he examined the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_ and nursed a cup of tea. He looked up at their entrance and chuckled when he noticed Harry's hands.

"Been snooping where you shouldn't have?" he asked with a wink.

"Didn't realize that cabinet hadn't been checked," Harry muttered. "Can you fix it?" Lupin studied Harry's hands for a moment before waving his wand. The coating on Harry's hands cracked and disappeared, and Harry rubbed his palms together, happy to be back to normal.

"Thanks," He said appreciatively.

"Of course. Anything else you need?"

"I could do with some tea," Harry replied, his lips quirking in a mischievous grin. Lupin shoved his arm playfully.

"Oh, go make your own tea," he retorted. "I'm happy to help with stray curses, but now you're just being lazy."

"You caught me," Harry admitted, his grin turning sheepish as he made for the cabinets. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted tea, though – anybody else want some?" Nearly everyone answered in the affirmative, so he pulled out the large kettle and put it on to boil.

The group was just finishing up their tea when a voice called, "We're back!" They looked up to see Lily and Mrs. Weasley coming down the basement stairs.

"We've taken your new things up to your rooms," Mrs. Weasley informed them. "And Hermione, dear, you've had a letter."

"Oh?" Hermione replied, her interest piqued. She quickly cleaned up her tea things and hastened towards the stairs, the others following not far behind. Careful to keep quiet so as not to awaken Mrs. Black, the teenagers hurried up the stairs to their rooms, where they each found a small pile of parcels waiting for them. In addition to their new books, they found plenty of basic ingredients to restock their potions kits, along with parchment, quills, and ink, and they each had a small sum of money to take to school, most of which would undoubtedly be spent in Hogsmeade. Hermione's letter sat on the very top of the pile, and she tore into it eagerly upon seeing the familiar handwriting.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_We found this letter in amongst the rest of the post when we returned from Cardiff and sent it along immediately – hopefully it's nothing terribly important, as we were out of the country for nearly a week and aren't completely sure when it arrived._

_We hope your time in London has been good to you – we miss you very much but understand that it wouldn't have been much fun for you to spend the summer in an empty house. The conferences have been informative and thoroughly engaging, but we're very glad that there's just the one left – three days in Edinburgh, and then we'll be home for good. Hopefully you'll at least be able to stop by for a last meal before you go back to school, since going until Christmas without seeing you really would be too long._

_From your most recent letter, it sounds like you've been keeping very busy, and of course we're thrilled about the prefect news – we're so proud of you, sweetie. Give our love to Draco, Harry, and anyone else who's with you, and we hope to see you soon._

_Love always,_

_Mum and Dad_

Hermione smiled as she read the letter – while she was unquestionably having fun spending the summer with her friends, she did miss her parents, and it felt good to hear from them. She made a mental note to ask Lily about visiting home before September and opened the envelope again. Inside was a second, slightly smaller envelope, this one bearing a Muggle postmark she didn't know. Upon closer inspection, however, Hermione's eyes widened, and she quickly called next door, "Harry…Draco…this letter's from Peter!" Hermione opened the envelope carefully as the boys dashed into her room and sat on the edge of her bed, staring eagerly at the letter in her hand.

"Well, go on," Harry urged. "Read it!" Peter Johansson was one of Harry's fellow champions from the Triwizard Tournament and had become a good friend, and though they had exchanged contact information at the end of last term, they'd had yet to hear from the Durmstrang boy.

"I'm getting there, hold on," Hermione said impatiently. She shook out the letter and read:

_Dear Hermione, Harry, and Draco,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying your summer holidays. I would like to apologize for how long it took me to write, and I do hope this letter reaches you before you return to Hogwarts – I am using Muggle post so as not to startle Hermione's neighbors, and I am unfamiliar with the time it takes for mail to travel from Switzerland to England in that manner._

_I have been very busy since we last saw each other, most notably in my new position as apprentice to a local wand maker. He is much younger than and not nearly as well known as Gregorovitch or your Ollivander, but he is enthusiastic about his craft and highly knowledgeable – I have already learned a staggering amount from him and am eager to continue doing so. At this point in time, my principal interest lies in the personalities created from combining certain wand woods and cores. If it is not too much to ask, might I have a list of the properties of each of your wands? Extra case studies are always helpful, and the fact that I am familiar with each of you as people might give me some insight into why wands choose the people they do._

_As an added bonus, my master's wife is quite the gossip and shares everything of interest with us as a result – I do believe I know more about current events than even my father, and he works for the Swiss Ministry! Nothing of concern to report as of yet, but it is still nice to know what is going on._

_My family is well – my sister returns to school in a few weeks, and I think the fact that I am no longer at Durmstrang will make things easier on all of us. The school was rather a mess when our delegation returned, what with our headmaster missing and one of our students wanted for murder. Subsequently, Karkaroff was found a few weeks ago – he is dead as well, although I suspect you might have already heard that bit of news. Professor Gustavson has taken over for the time being, and I do not envy him for that – I suspect that the atmosphere at Durmstrang will be tense for quite some time. No new information on Viktor Krum's whereabouts, unfortunately, and his family has disappeared as well – whether in hiding or dead, no one knows. I made sure to make contact with any of my classmates whom I thought might be loyal to our cause, and they in turn have added a few more names to our contingent – we are small, just over a dozen in number, but I think you will agree that a few is better than none at all. If ever you need us, we are here to help._

_Please keep me posted on any developments in England. I hope the rest of your holidays are relaxing, and I wish you the best of luck as you return to Hogwarts._

_Kindest regards,_

_Peter L. Johansson_

The trio chuckled a little at the formal tone of Peter's letter, which was very much like his spoken English, but they all agreed it was nice to finally hear from their friend.

"I don't think it'd be too hard to honor his request, do you?" Hermione asked, referring to Peter's inquiry about their wands.

"Not at all," Draco agreed. "We can give him ours and Ginny's easily enough, and once we get back to Hogwarts, we can send him Blaise and Tracey's as well."

"So Karkaroff's dead," Harry said, pointing at the relevant passage in the letter.

"Seems so. I'm sure the Order already knows, given the number of meetings they've had lately, but it can't hurt to tell them just in case they don't," Hermione reasoned. "After all, Peter did say he was a Death Eater."

"And nobody knows what happened to Krum," Harry continued, his tone darkening at the mention of the other Durmstrang champion. It was Krum's scheme that had ultimately led to Cedric Diggory's death during the third task, and Harry wanted nothing more than to see the Bulgarian brought to justice.

"And there isn't really much we can do about that right now," Hermione reminded him calmly. "I'm sure Peter will let us know as soon as he hears anything – right now, though, our main goal needs to be finding those rings, and then figuring out who's supposed to wear them."

"And we're back at square one in that regard," Draco said with a frown. "Does that mean the prophecy is invalid, now that one member of the quartet is dead?"

"I don't think so, and neither does Dumbledore," Hermione replied. When the boys gave her confused looks, she said, "I asked him about it when he was here the other day – I think it was when you two were playing gobstones with Ron and Ginny. He said that since the rings have been successfully matched before – remember he told us about those other mentions he'd found when he first showed us Hufflepuff's? – and since those previous matches are all obviously dead by now, the death of a match clearly doesn't affect the ring's ability to work."

"Makes sense," Harry nodded. "And besides, that prophecy is so specific – Cedric might've been an acceptable match for the Hufflepuff ring, but now that I think about it, would that automatically mean he was _the_ match for the ring?"

"Well, now you're just making things complicated," Draco said. "But you're right, the prophecy is very specific – the wearers of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw rings have to be friends, and I don't know that Cedric had any Ravenclaw friends."

"Or friends with Ravenclaw traits," Harry reminded him.

"True – but either way, the only Ravenclaw I ever saw him with was Cho Chang, and she was his girlfriend, not just his friend, so I don't think that counts."

"Well, we have a lot to think about, at any rate," Hermione said finally. "We didn't make much progress last year, but to be fair, we were pretty preoccupied with the tournament and all – maybe we'll have better luck this time around."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here's chapter 3! Almost time to go back to Hogwarts...& it's snowing here! Looks like winter finally decided to show up (yeah right - it's supposed to be 57 tomorrow. Haha)**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Leave me your thoughts, & enjoy! :)**


	4. Wrackspurts

The rest of August was filled with a second lively celebration for Ginny's fourteenth birthday, a dozen more pranks, and countless hours of exploring. Much to Hermione's delight, her parents managed to stop by London on their way home from Edinburgh, and the three Grangers, four Potter-Blacks, and Ginny – who Hermione had insisted be invited – all went to dinner in Muggle London. It wasn't quite the same as the home-cooked meal they usually shared on the last day of August, but the atmosphere was cheerful as the eight diners exchanged stories of their summer adventures. The trio also replied to Peter's letter with the requested wand information and told him everything they'd learned from the Order – admittedly, what they knew wasn't much, but they figured even a little bit of news was better than no news at all.

Harry thought he had seen crazy starts to September, but the previous years were nothing compared to the scene inside Grimmauld Place on the morning of the first. Just as they had when they'd first arrived, nobody bothered to keep Mrs. Black's portrait quiet – what with seven teenagers frantically racing all over in an attempt to round up the rest of their scattered possessions, the noise level in the house was unbelievable. Hedwig, Berenice, and Crookshanks added their displeased hoots and meows to the racket, and Mrs. Weasley shouted at Fred and George for a good ten minutes when Fred's trunk, which hadn't been properly locked, tipped and spilled its contents all over the floor.

"Do you all have your brooms this time?" Sirius yelled over the chaos.

"Did you remember your new books?" Lily asked.

"Don't forget that laundry got done last night!"

"We'd better hurry up or we'll be late!"

The rapid questions continued, the teenagers doing their best to answer while avoiding each other on the stairs.

_"Probably a good thing Sasha isn't here,"_ Harry thought with a chuckle as he swerved to stay out of Ron's way. Sasha, his mum's cat, had been tripped over by various people more times than he could count in situations like these. Harry himself had accidentally terrorized the poor cat on more than one occasion as a child, and as Sasha was getting on in years, Harry was glad that she could, for once, spend the first of September in peace.

As they didn't really have a viable alternative, they would all be Apparating to Kings Cross. However, Grimmauld Place was charmed so that nobody could Apparate or Disapparate directly inside the house, and they had to be cautious while Apparating outside so as not to be noticed by the Muggle neighbors. To prevent this, they left in small groups – Fred and George, who were of age, went on their own, followed by Mrs. Weasley with Ginny and Ron, Sirius with Harry and Draco, and Lily with Hermione. Tonks and Hestia Jones were the Order members assigned to accompany them, bringing the group to a round dozen.

Despite the crowded platform, they managed to get everyone's luggage onto the train without too much trouble, and before they knew it, it was eleven o'clock and the Express was pulling out. The seven teenagers waved goodbye from the carriage door, remaining where they were until they could no longer see the platform before finally picking up their trunks and heading off to find compartments. Fred and George found their best friend Lee Jordan almost immediately, but the others trudged on with little success. Finally, they found a compartment that was empty save for a lone girl sitting by the window. Dark blonde hair fell nearly to her waist, and large blue eyes peeked up over the edge of the magazine she was reading. She wasn't yet wearing her school robes, but unlike the jeans and t-shirts favored by most Hogwarts students, she wore a pair of loose, flowing tan pants and a long blue tunic, a pair of simple sandals on her feet. The ensemble resembled that worn by the inhabitants of the hot desert climes of the Middle East, and the delicate silver embroidery around the tunic's edge reminded Hermione of the sari that her roommate Parvati owned.

"Oh, hello," the girl said brightly when she heard the door open. "Plenty of room, if you like."

"Thanks, Luna," Ginny replied, apparently recognizing the girl. Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron followed her into the compartment, and they hauled their trunks into the luggage racks before falling into the empty seats.

"Everyone, this is Luna Lovegood," Ginny said once they were all seated. "She's a Ravenclaw in my year." Luna studied them all carefully. Up close, they could see that she wore a long necklace of what looked like butterbeer caps, and orange objects that somewhat resembled radishes hung from her ears.

"You're Harry Potter," she said suddenly, somehow suggesting that this was fascinating information though her tone was one she might've used to comment on the weather. "And you're Draco Black. I'm afraid I don't know who you two are, though," she added, turning to Ron and Hermione.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said.

"Oh yes, of course." Luna smiled and nodded as if she'd known it all along.

"Erm…huh?" Ron managed. He looked extremely confused.

"Wrackspurts getting to you?" Luna asked, smiling serenely once more. She gazed intently at Ron for a long moment before nodding knowledgeably. "There are a few of them in here, you know." Without another word, Luna picked up her magazine and flipped it over, humming to herself as she read upside-down. Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron all looked quizzically at Ginny, who shrugged.

"Marches to the beat of her own drum," she offered by way of explanation. Her tone wasn't malicious, just matter-of-fact. "Very smart, though – she picks up on a lot of things that most people don't, I've noticed."

"Oh," Hermione said suddenly as she checked her watch. "Dragon, we'd better go – our meeting's in fifteen minutes."

"Meeting?" Harry asked.

"Prefects' meeting," Hermione explained. "Hopefully it won't take long." She and Draco hurried from the compartment, and the three remaining Gryffindors immediately struck up a conversation about the Quidditch match they'd heard on the wireless the night before. The discussion only made Harry that much more excited to return to Hogwarts, as he'd missed flying so much it was almost painful – the inter-house competition had been canceled the previous year due to the Triwizard Tournament, and there hadn't been enough space to fly at Grimmauld Place. He was more than ready to start training again.

Roughly half an hour later, Hermione and Draco returned, Draco immediately reaching for a chocolate frog from the pile of sweets his friends had bought off the trolley.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't terrible, I guess – the Head Boy is a little long-winded though," Draco replied once he'd swallowed his treat. "The Head Girl kept shooting him looks whenever he started talking too much."

"And who are the other prefects? The ones in our year, I mean."

"Well, the other Gryffindor prefect is Neville," Hermione said with a smile.

"Neville? Wow, that's great!" Harry replied. Truth be told, even if he really was in line for next year's Quidditch captaincy, he had been a little jealous of Draco and Hermione…but upon hearing that Neville had been chosen, that feeling disappeared instantly. On top of being an amazingly loyal friend, Neville worked harder than anyone Harry knew but hardly ever got any recognition – if anyone deserved the badge, it was him.

_"Neville?"_ Ron repeated, looking shocked. "But Neville's marks are abysmal!"

"Excuse me," Hermione said coldly, "but Dumbledore takes far more than just marks into consideration. Neville is a lovely person and more than qualified to be a prefect. And just because he has so much trouble with Potions doesn't mean his marks are 'abysmal' – he's top of our year in Herbology, and I happen to know for a fact that his Charms scores are higher than _yours."_ She checked her watch and stood. "If you'll excuse me, I have patrols in five minutes."

"Nice going, Ron," Ginny said sarcastically once Hermione was gone. "Do you always have to be such a thoughtless prat?"

"Shut up, Gin," Ron retorted.

"So you never said who the other prefects are," Harry interrupted, hoping to stop an argument from brewing – when they got going, the Weasleys' tempers were as fierce as their hair was red.

"Well, there's a boy and girl from each house," Draco said. "Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan are the Hufflepuff prefects, and it's Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw."

"Ernie Macmillan, really?" Harry asked, making a face. Ernie had – quite dramatically – accused him of setting a monster on his classmates back in second year, and he was more than a bit pompous. "And who's Anthony Goldstein?"

"What d'you mean, who's Anthony Goldstein?" Draco replied, looking very confused. "He's in our…oh, wait…you're not in my Herbology class. Never mind. But surely you know him – tall, sandy-haired bloke, took Mandy Brocklehurst to the Yule Ball?"

"Erm…no," Harry confessed. "We don't have any classes with the Ravenclaws."

"None at all?" Draco's eyes widened. "Wait…now that I think about it, Slytherins never have class with Hufflepuff – I just know most of them from our electives."

"I wonder why they do that?" Ginny mused. "In our year, it's Gryffindor who doesn't have classes with Hufflepuff. Seems a bit…difficult to promote inter-house unity if you don't even know a quarter of your classmates, doesn't it?"

"You never said who the other Slytherin prefect is," Luna cut in. The other four jumped, unaware that the blonde girl had even been listening. Draco's expression darkened noticeably at the Ravenclaw's question.

"Pansy Parkinson," he said shortly.

"Oh," Luna said. "That's too bad. She's not very nice, is she?"

"Understatement of the year, Luna," Draco said dryly, though Luna had already returned to her magazine. "Pansy doesn't know the meaning of the word. She definitely doesn't seem like prefect material, either – I thought for sure it'd be Tracey, or maybe Daphne Greengrass."

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons," Ginny said, though she sounded doubtful. Draco snorted.

"While I don't doubt it, I think this falls under the category of 'completely barmy decisions that only might make sense if explained later'," he said. "The head students did say they might mix up the houses for patrols though, so there's that at least."

The rest of the journey passed smoothly, the scenery outside growing steadily wilder as the train moved northward. Hermione returned while Draco temporarily left for his own patrols, and many familiar faces stopped by to say hello, Neville, Blaise, and Tracey among them. Neville flushed bright pink when they offered their congratulations on his prefect selection, but he grinned and involuntarily raised a hand towards the little silver badge, the natural movement suggesting that he'd already done it more than once. When the voice of the conductor announced their impending arrival at Hogsmeade Station, they took it in shifts to change into their Hogwarts robes.

"Why is it always raining when we get to Hogwarts?" Ginny remarked as she fastened her cloak. Thick drops were cascading down the windows, and they could hear it pounding the roof – this was the second year in a row they'd arrived in the midst of a torrential downpour.

"Dunno," Ron replied grumpily, "but the Sorting had better not take long – I'm starving. And would you two stop doing that?" he added, glaring at Draco and Hermione. "It's annoying." Without another word, Ron swung his own cloak around his shoulders and left the compartment in a huff.

"What did we do?" Hermione asked, sounding a little hurt.

"No idea," Draco said honestly, staring at the compartment door, his fingers brushing against Hermione's. Harry was used to their little exchanges and caught it, and he suddenly suspected that the same action, or something similar, had caused Ron's outburst. Ever since they'd arrived at Grimmauld Place, the redhead had commented unfavorably whenever anything of the sort happened – which was odd, because though they'd relaxed a bit, Draco and Hermione were incredibly private with their affections and hardly ever did anything more than briefly touch if they weren't alone. Considering that they were now in fifth year and had seen plenty of classmates doing far worse in the halls at Hogwarts, Ron's complaining was both unwarranted and downright ridiculous. Determined not to let Ron's sour mood affect his own, Harry merely shrugged and said that it probably wasn't anything worth worrying about. All conversation stopped then as they exited the warmth of the train and stepped onto the platform, hurrying through the heavy rain towards the carriages as quickly as they could. By the time they reached the castle, they were soaked to the bone and more than ready for a hot meal. Hopefully, their headmaster would take pity on them and keep his pre-feast remarks short.

It seemed Dumbledore did have a feel for his students' needs, as he bade them tuck in almost immediately after the Sorting ended. The food seemed even more delicious as usual, and everyone took the opportunity to catch up with friends and classmates. Harry had a hard time hiding his enthusiasm when Angelina Johnson, who was sitting nearby, told him of her status as the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and that she planned to hold trials the following Friday.

"Make sure you're there," she said. "We need a new Keeper now that Wood's gone, and I want to see how the candidates fit with the whole team."

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," Harry promised.

As the last of the desserts vanished, Dumbledore rose to give his announcements.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome back! To those of you joining us for the first time – welcome. A reminder to all that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden to all students, as is Hogsmeade to all below third year. Fanged Frisbees have been added to the list of items banned in the castle – for the full list, please see Mr. Filch. Anyone interested in trying for their house Quidditch team should see Madam Hooch or their house captain for the trials schedule. And finally, I ask you to please welcome your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Umbridge."

There was a smattering of polite applause as Professor Umbridge stood. Or at least, it looked like she'd stood – it was hard to tell, as she seemed to be very short indeed. She wore a thick pink cardigan over her robes, and a frilly little bow of the same color was perched on top of her short gray curls. Her face twisted into a simpering smile as she spoke.

"_Hem, hem. _Good evening," she said, her high-pitched, girly voice not matching her toad-like appearance at all. "I am very pleased for the chance to educate so many fine young minds – I do believe we will have a pleasant year together. Now, I would like to say a few words…"

'A few words' turned into a full-blown speech – Harry managed to catch a few words but otherwise found his mind wandering very quickly. Term hadn't even started yet, and this woman was already proving herself to be as fascinating as one of Binns' lectures – that is, not at all. Professor Umbridge droned on and on, either unaware of or ignoring the fact that almost nobody was paying her any attention, and the students barely contained a collective sigh of relief when she finally finished.

"Well, that was interesting," Hermione commented as they all stood to leave. "First years, follow me please!"

"I don't know that 'interesting' is the right word, Maya," Harry replied. Hermione smiled a little and shook her head.

"You didn't really listen to what she was saying, did you?" she said knowingly. Harry grinned.

"Not really."

"Well, I think I need to fill you in on this one, because she said some very important things – or rather, it's what she _didn't_ say that was important."

"Which was…?" Hermione turned and looked at her friend as they reached the top of the marble staircase. Her jaw was set and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

"The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts," she said gravely.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And fifth year has begun...Umbridge. Yikes.**

**We're supposed to have negative temperatures here tomorrow morning before you even factor in the wind chill, & the rest of the day doesn't look much better - I'm seriously considering hibernating instead of going to work.**

**Thank you for the new follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Hope you're liking it so far.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please review, & enjoy! :)**


	5. Promises

As September first had fallen on a Friday this year, Harry and his friends had two whole days to relax and just enjoy being back at Hogwarts before they'd have to dive back into their classes. Mother Nature, however, seemed to have other ideas – the storm they'd arrived in continued to pound the castle with no signs of retreat in sight, and the friends spent nearly the entire weekend in the Room of Requirement as a result. Nobody seemed to mind, though, and Dobby brought them delicious treats from the kitchens and entertained them with tales of his summer – in spite of their obvious penchant for hard work, it seemed that some of the house-elves did indeed like to have fun once in a while. When they got bored of talking or rifling through their school books, they sparred in their training room – Harry, Draco, and Hermione left their knives out of these duels as a courtesy to their friends, who weren't used to the additional weapons, but all other rules quickly went out the window as they practiced both their spell casting and their hand-to-hand combat. After a particularly grueling session on Sunday afternoon, Harry collapsed on his back in the middle of the room, a satisfied goofy grin on his face, and suggested that they might try dueling on brooms in the future – it would definitely provide an added challenge, and the room was more than big enough.

"Can't we get back into the swing of things before you start throwing extra stuff in?" Ginny groaned. "Merlin, I'm out of shape." The sparring, while fun, was intense, and they hadn't really had the time or space to practice at Grimmauld Place.

"Wimp," Harry replied with a grin, laughing heartily when Ginny smacked his arm in reply. "Alright, alright, we can wait." Ginny glared at him again, but Harry could tell she wasn't really mad.

Truth be told, Harry was throwing his all into their dueling sessions in an attempt to take his mind off the tense atmosphere in the castle. He hadn't really kept up with the _Daily Prophet_ over the summer, and now he wished he had – it seemed that not everyone had believed what Dumbledore had told them about Cedric Diggory's death at the end of last term, and the paper had done its best to discredit the story. Whether the Ministry was merely trying to pretend that Voldemort hadn't returned or whether there were other motives at work, Harry wasn't sure, but he'd gotten a number of funny looks and had a handful of not-so-friendly remarks directed his way since they'd come back to Hogwarts. As the only people who knew the truth were either Order members or allies and the perpetrator was long gone, he knew that getting people to believe them would be extremely difficult.

Monday morning brought another unpleasant surprise as Professor McGonagall passed out their timetables.

"Binns, Snape, Trelawney, _and_ Umbridge all in one day?" Ron moaned as he stared at his Monday schedule. "What the bloody hell were they thinking?" Harry continued buttering his toast as he nodded in agreement – that didn't sound like a fun day.

Not only did it not sound like a fun day, it _wasn't_ a fun day. If they'd had a different teacher, the goblin wars they started with in History of Magic might actually have been interesting, but the only interesting thing Professor Binns did was drift through the blackboard at the start of class – and as he'd done that at the beginning of every History lesson since first year, even that wasn't remotely exciting. Their only respite was the material itself – while they would be expected to analyze and comprehend massive amounts of information at a much more sophisticated level, it wasn't like the events themselves could change their level of difficulty. Harry vaguely recalled tutoring sessions in which his mother had mentioned that he and Draco would have studied certain historical events again had they attended a Muggle secondary school, and it was the same in the Wizarding world – history was history, and it was only how in-depth you went with it that distinguished a fifth-year class from a first-year one.

Double Potions with Snape gave them no such reassuring feelings. After a lecture on the importance of their O.W.L.s and his expectations of a high success rate, Snape set them to work on the Draught of Peace, an absurdly finicky potion that required their undivided attention. The ingredients, some of which were volatile enough on their own, had to be added in extremely precise quantities in an equally precise order – it was quite ironic that a potion meant to induce peace could so easily explode if brewed just a few degrees too hot, and indeed, Goyle managed to set his robes aflame midway through the period. Snape scowled heavily as he doused the fire with his wand and gave Goyle detention, and he glared at the rest of the class and threatened to dock points from everyone if they didn't get back to work immediately. Needless to say, they were more than relieved when the lunch bell finally rang.

By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Harry was in a miserable mood. Divination had been absolute rubbish, as always – _why_ he hadn't dropped the subject after third year like Hermione had was beyond him – and Trelawney had set them more than twice as much homework as she ever had before. He slumped into a seat next to Hermione, who had just come from Arithmancy, and sighed.

"That bad, huh?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

"You have no idea," Harry groaned as he pulled out his textbook and some parchment. "I swear Trelawney gets battier every year."

"Well, I think it's safe to say that unless something huge happens, you'll be done with Divination after this year, so that's something, at least," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"Thank Merlin," Harry replied. "All it is is more homework that I don't have time to do." Hermione wasn't able to respond, however, as the door opened and Professor Umbridge walked in.

Their newest Defense teacher wasted no time, striding purposefully to the front of the room before turning to face her students. She wore the same fluffy cardigan and hair bow she'd sported at the start of term feast, and up close, they could see a number of large, ugly rings adorning her stubby fingers. Schooling her features into what she must've thought was a charming smile, she said, "Good afternoon, class!"

A few students mumbled in reply, but most remained quiet.

"Oh, no, no, no," Professor Umbridge chastised, "that won't do, not at all! I would like you to respond, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,' if you please. Now, let's try that again, shall we? Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they replied automatically. Many of them exchanged exasperated glances afterwards – what were they, five?

"Oh, _much_ better," Umbridge simpered. "Now, please copy these down" – she tapped a very short wand to the blackboard, where an equally short list of course objectives appeared – "and when you have finished with that, please open your textbooks and read chapter one. There will be no need to talk."

Harry barely suppressed a groan as he loaded his quill with ink and began to copy the list from the board. It was only the first day of classes, and he could already tell that this year's Monday schedule was quickly stacking up to be his worst lineup ever. He quickly scribbled down Umbridge's course aims: _understanding principles…learning to recognize…context for…_ Harry frowned as he read what he'd just written – he couldn't pinpoint what, but something very important seemed to be missing.

As he screwed the cap back on his ink bottle, Harry noticed that while Hermione had long finished copying the course objectives, she hadn't so much as touched her book – instead, she was sitting with her hand in the air, her gaze firmly fixed on Professor Umbridge. Professor Umbridge, for her part, was actively ignoring Hermione's raised hand, but when several minutes had gone by and more than half the class had abandoned their books in favor of staring curiously at Hermione, she seemed to give up.

"Did you have a question about the reading, my dear?" she asked.

"Not the reading, no," Hermione replied. "It's a question about your course objectives." Professor Umbridge turned to look at the list in question.

"I do believe the objectives need no explanation, Miss…"

"Granger," Hermione said, "Hermione Granger. And with all due respect, I think they do – there's nothing in them about _using_ defensive spells." The class now had Hermione's full attention, and many frowned when they took a second look at the board and realized that she was right.

_"Using_ defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated, sounding positively flabbergasted. "Miss Granger, why on earth would you ever need to _use_ defensive spells?"

"Why would we not?" Hermione replied, looking equally confused. "Isn't the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts learning how to protect yourself? How can you protect yourself if you're not learning the spells to do so?"

"Good gracious, what an active imagination!" Professor Umbridge said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "You've no need to _protect_ yourself, my dear! Why, saying you need protection would suggest that there was a threat to begin with!"

"Are you saying there isn't?" Ron interrupted. "After a student was-"

"Tut, tut, students _raise their hands_ when in my class!" Umbridge cut in. Ron immediately thrust his hand into the air, but Umbridge ignored him in favor of Dean Thomas.

"Professor, a student died right here at Hogwarts just last term," he said. "I think we'd all feel more comfortable knowing how to defend ourselves, especially if-"

"Nonsense," Umbridge said smoothly. "A tragic accident does not mean-"

"A _tragic accident?"_ Harry exclaimed. "Cedric Diggory was murdered!"

"Mr. Potter!" Umbridge gasped. "How dare you suggest such a thing?"

"Since I know it's the truth!" Harry retorted. "Tragic accidents don't leave handwritten notes! Cedric was murdered by Voldemort!"

_"Enough!"_ Umbridge snapped. "I will not tolerate such lies in my classroom – detention, and fifteen points from Gryffindor!" The class sat in stunned silence at this proclamation, Harry trying his best not to explode again. Eventually, Dean broke the moment and raised his hand again.

"Professor," he said once Umbridge had called on him, "how do you expect us to pass our O.W.L.s if we haven't had any practice with the spells?"

"If you have studied the theory enough, you will be able to perform the spells just fine," Umbridge said briskly. The Gryffindors immediately began to protest. Was this woman _mad?_ Would they really not be doing any spells at all until the exam itself?

"Silence!" Umbridge demanded. "None of you are qualified educators, and as such, none of you have the right to question or criticize the running of this class. The Ministry devised and approved this curriculum in an attempt to rectify the utterly embarrassing state of your previous education in this subject, and we shall be doing as they see fit. Now, back to your reading, at once!"

The rest of the double period dragged by so slowly that the Gryffindors thought time might be going backwards – and as they were in the Wizarding world, they actually couldn't rule out such a possibility. When the bell finally rang, they had to refrain from flat-out running from the room, and Harry had to try his hardest to keep his cool while he hung back to arrange the details of his detention.

"Tonight at eight," he muttered to Hermione, who had waited for him outside the classroom. "Perfect end to this sodding day…"

"At least tomorrow will be better," Hermione said in an attempt to console him. Harry sighed.

"I sure hope so…c'mon, let's see what's for dinner."

Angelina Johnson waved to Harry as soon as she caught sight of him in the Great Hall.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, taking the empty seat next to him. Harry shrugged.

"Sure. What's up?"

"So, listen – I know I told you I wanted the whole team there on Friday to see how the new Keeper fits in, but now you _have _to be there," Angelina said.

"Um…I thought that was pretty much what you said the first time around," Harry said as he cut into his chicken.

"Not nearly." Angelina frowned. "Have you had Defense yet?"

"Yeah," Harry said darkly. "I've got detention tonight, too."

"Harry, you _cannot_ get yourself detention on Friday," she said, sounding almost desperate.

"Ang, my detention is for _tonight,_ not Friday," Harry replied, his annoyance obvious in his tone.

"No, really," Angelina interrupted. "If you're not there on Friday, you won't be able to play! That Umbridge woman is making _everyone_ who wants to play try out again!"

_"What?"_ Harry spluttered, coughing violently as he choked on his chicken. He hastily downed several large gulps of water and coughed again, finally able to speak properly. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," Angelina said grimly. "Umbridge declared this morning that everyone has to try out again – spouted some bullshit about fairness or something like that. It was all Madam Hooch could do to convince her that the _captains_ didn't need to try out."

"Since when does she have control over Quidditch?" Harry growled.

"Since she's here on the Minister's orders, and even though she doesn't have an official leg up on the rest of the staff, they all seem to know that anything they do will be reported back to Fudge. Anyway, I think her little declaration was her attempt to control who's on each Quidditch team – Quidditch is a pretty rough sport, you know, and I think her thought was that she doesn't want the 'wrong sort' of student getting any ideas." Angelina rolled her eyes. "Thing is, though, she might be making us all try out again, but she can't control who actually makes the team, now can she?" She sighed then, absentmindedly rolling her peas around her plate with her fork. "Just…keep your head down for the rest of the week, yeah? I had Defense this morning, and I have a feeling that that woman will stop at nothing to have things her way. I won't lose the best Seeker Gryffindor's had in centuries because of some stupid Ministry interference. I believe your story about what happened at the end of last year, but until we can figure out a way to get around Umbridge, we're going to have to be very careful."

"I will, Ang," Harry promised. The news was shocking, no doubt about it, and the threat of no Quidditch had humbled him somewhat. He'd get through the detention as best he could, then he would worry about what to do about Umbridge.

Wanting to leave no reason for Umbridge to give him any more detentions, Harry arrived at her office promptly at eight o'clock. The office had changed décor yet again – instead of the Dark detectors Krum alias Moody had kept, the room's surfaces were now covered in lace doilies. Large collectible plates, each featuring the image of a sickeningly cute kitten, hung on the wall behind the desk, where Umbridge herself sat reading what Harry recognized to be the _Daily Prophet._ Fighting the urge to say something scathing about the paper, Harry strode forward and took a seat.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her voice just as nauseating as it had been in class. "Right on time, good boy. Now, you'll be doing some lines this evening."

_"Lines? That's not so bad,"_ Harry thought as he reached into his bag for a quill.

"Oh, no, dear," Umbridge said. "You won't be needing that. You'll be using a rather special quill of mine." She handed him a jet-black quill, the point razor sharp, and a sheet of parchment.

"'I must not tell lies'," Umbridge said. "I will let you know when you have finished. Off you go." She settled back down at her desk and resumed reading.

Harry stared at her for a long moment. Didn't he need ink? Or perhaps this was one of those self-inking quills? Yes, that must be it, he decided. He picked up the quill and began to write.

_I must not…_

He barely held back a gasp as a sharp pain shot through his hand. He slowly turned his hand and was horrified to see that the exact same words he'd just written had cut themselves into his flesh. After a moment, the cuts sealed themselves, the skin looking a bit redder than usual but otherwise unharmed.

"Is something wrong, dear?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"I…no," Harry said firmly. Umbridge must've known exactly what was going to happen when she gave him this quill, and he was _not_ going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd unnerved him. He resolutely tugged his parchment closer and resumed writing, ignoring the pain in his hand as the message was carved in again and again. The 'ink' coming from the quill's tip was a deep scarlet color, and Harry had the horrible suspicion that it was actually his own blood.

After what felt like days, Professor Umbridge finally called Harry up to her desk. His hand was hurting something awful, but he refused to show pain as she pulled his hand close and examined it. She tutted for a moment as if in disapproval, but she finally gave Harry permission to leave, and he hurried back to Gryffindor Tower without a word. It was late enough that his friends would all be in their common rooms now, and he wasn't about to risk another detention by loitering.

Harry kept his promise to Angelina as best he could – their second Defense class later that week was just as bad as the first, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. The rest of his time was filled with homework – the professors were relentless in the amount of work they dumped on the fifth-years, and Harry knew that if he didn't attempt to get at least some of it done ahead of time, he'd never make it through the term. He and his friends were thankful for the upper years' later curfew – if this week's workload was anything to go by, they'd need every extra minute they could get. As he slogged through a deadly dull Defense essay on Thursday night, Harry made a second promise, this one to himself:

_Umbridge is _not_ going to get away with this._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, how I _loathe_ that woman...I can only hope that I can eventually give her what she deserves.**

**Thank you for all the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Hope you're enjoying so far.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	6. Trials and Tribulations

Harry honestly had no idea how he managed to make it through his Friday classes – Quidditch trials were scheduled for after dinner, and he was so excited to fly again that he could barely concentrate. He veritably catapulted himself from his chair the instant the bell rang at the end of his last class and raced upstairs to Gryffindor Tower, where he spent a full hour before dinner giving his broom a thorough examination and cleaning.

After thinking long and hard about it, Harry had decided not to tell anyone about his detention with Umbridge for the time being. While it probably wasn't the best idea to keep his friends and family in the dark about it, he knew that nothing would come of it if he _did_ tell. His mum would be furious, of course, and would probably go straight to the headmaster, but Harry couldn't see any sort of positive progression beyond that point. Umbridge had already proven that she had a serious foothold, and Harry highly doubted that a complaint from a single student would change anything, especially when that particular student was himself, someone the Ministry had been doing their utmost to discredit all summer. No, the only thing that would happen if he told would be that Umbridge would know that she'd unnerved him, and that just wouldn't do. With the situation as precarious as it was, Harry suspected he – or any of the students, for that matter – would only have one shot to get rid of Umbridge, and he didn't want to do anything until he had an undeniable case against her.

The sun broke through the clouds as Harry walked across the lawn, its rays illuminating the water droplets left over from an earlier rain, and he grinned broadly as the Quidditch pitch came into view. Unable to resist temptation any longer, Harry hopped onto his broom right then and there and flew the rest of the way to the field, where he found Angelina waiting for him.

"Excited much?" she called, flashing him a cheeky grin as he circled her head. Harry coasted to a stop and hopped off his broom, returning the smirk.

"C'mon, Ang," he said. "Can you blame me?"

"After how little flying we did last year? No," she replied with a laugh. "Now, get up there and warm up, we'll be starting right at seven." Needing no further encouragement to fly again, Harry mounted his broom and kicked off.

By seven o'clock, there was a small crowd of people standing in the center of the pitch, and Madam Hooch was ready to oversee the trials from her spot at the front of the stands. Angelina motioned for Harry and the few others who'd joined him to come back down, and once they'd all done so, she began to explain.

"Right. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Angelina Johnson, and I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year. By decree of our illustrious new Defense professor" – here Angelina stopped and scowled, and a number of the hopefuls mimicked her expression at the mention of Umbridge – "it is now mandatory that Quidditch captains act as if _all_ positions on their team are now available, not just those vacated by graduated students. Furthermore, all captains are required to choose at least two new players for their team." Harry and the other returning players deepened their frowns at this statement – that addendum was a direct shot at the Gryffindors, who were the only team with only one vacancy.

"All captains must choose at least two new players," Angelina repeated. "However, there's no rule that says those two new players must be part of the _starting_ team, and whether or not you've been on the team before will _not_ affect my choices – I only want the best for my starting seven, and that's final. In addition to the starters, I plan on choosing one reserve for each position for a total of eleven players, including myself. All of my decisions are final. Any questions?" There were none, and Angelina had them break into groups by position before telling them exactly what she was looking for from each group. After quickly explaining the first drill, she sent the Chaser candidates into the air.

"Trying to steal my spot?" Harry joked as he turned to the very familiar face beside him.

"Possibly," Hermione replied with a smirk. "My one stint with the team was actually rather fun, once I got over the whole 'this-is-the-championship-game' pressure." She paused and glanced up at the Chasers. "I'm really just looking to be a reserve, though – we both know you're the better Seeker, and I've got prefect duties to consider as well."

"Well, good luck, then," Harry said sincerely. He looked around at the hopefuls again and chuckled. "Looks like the Weasleys are trying to make Quidditch the family business, eh?" He definitely had a point – in addition to Fred and George, who were preparing to defend their Beater positions, Ginny was currently in the air with the other Chasers, and Ron was biting his nails as he paced back and forth near the Keepers.

"Charlie played too, didn't he?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah – could've played for England, from what I understand. Wood was always going on about how amazing he was. Oh look, I think the Chasers are done." And indeed, the Chaser hopefuls were slowly returning to the ground, some looking much happier than others.

"Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley, and Demelza Robins, please stay," Angelina instructed. Apparently, she had yet to make her final choice. "The rest of you, thanks for coming out. Now, could I see the Beaters, please?"

The Beater trials took hardly any time at all, as it really was no contest – Fred and George were practically a pair of human Bludgers themselves, and each read the other's intentions seamlessly as they pelted the Bludgers around the field. Unlike the Chasers, it was very clear who the starters were when Angelina read the names from her clipboard.

The Keepers went next, and Harry was dismayed to see that none of the candidates were very good. In fact, the only two who weren't downright terrible were Ron and a tall, broad-shouldered boy Harry didn't know. As with the Chasers, Angelina seemed to have trouble deciding, and so she told both boys to stay while she dismissed the others.

The five Seeker hopefuls went last. Just as Harry remembered from his first tryouts four years ago, Angelina threw a number of ordinary golf balls for the candidates to catch, and once she'd exhausted her supply, she released a real Snitch and sent them after it. It was the simplest and most straightforward of the trials – whoever caught the Snitch first would make the team, and whoever caught it next would be the reserve. In the end, Harry and Hermione came up victorious.

"As you can see, we've got twelve people still here," Angelina said once those who hadn't made the cut had left. "I'm only allowed to carry eleven, so I'm afraid one of you ladies will have to go." She nodded towards the Chasers. "However, whichever one of you ultimately ends up cut had better try out again next year, because you're all excellent – I'm not just trying to make you feel better when I say I'd take you all if I could. Now, I want to have a quick pick-up match to help me finalize the roster – I'd like Alicia, Ginny, Fred, Ron, and Hermione on one team, and Katie, Demelza, George, Cormac, and Harry on the other. Jack, you'll serve as the second Beater for _both_ teams – got it? We'll use just one Bludger, plus the Quaffle and the Snitch. Chasers and Keepers, I'm looking at how you perform both individually and as part of your team, so keep that in mind. You've got fifteen minutes or until the Snitch is caught to show me your stuff. Alright, on my whistle, then!" Angelina let loose a shrill blast as she released the Bludger and tossed the Quaffle skyward.

Angelina had done well in making evenly matched teams, and Harry put off looking for the Snitch in favor of watching the others. As Angelina had said, the Chasers were all very good, though Alicia and Katie had a slight edge – Harry had a feeling that unless Ginny or Demelza did something spectacular within the next fifteen minutes, the starting Chaser trio would remain intact. Ron and Cormac, however, were another case entirely – Ron got incredibly flustered every time the Quaffle came his way and made a number of easy mistakes, while Cormac was entirely too fixated on loudly 'correcting' his teammates instead of focusing on his own job. Both teams' Chasers scored several goals they probably shouldn't have as a result, and the score was tied at a whopping sixty apiece when Harry finally spotted the Snitch thirteen minutes into the scrimmage. Hermione caught sight of the little gold ball as well, and Harry only just barely beat her to it, the two of them breathing hard as they coasted to a stop.

"Good work," Angelina said approvingly as the others came to land. "Final cut: Katie, Alicia, and myself as Chasers, Ginny's our reserve. Demelza, I really do wish I could take you, and I hope you try out again next year." Demelza smiled in spite of the situation.

"I'm just happy to have made it this far," she said honestly. "Thank you."

"Beaters and Seekers, you already know – Fred, George, and Harry are the starters, Jack and Hermione are the reserves. Keepers…" Angelina turned to Ron and Cormac. "Keepers, it wasn't an easy choice, but Ron, you're in. Cormac, you're reserve." Cormac immediately made to protest, but Angelina silenced him with a look.

"I said at the beginning of tryouts that all of my decisions were final – you can either accept the reserve spot or nothing at all," she said bluntly. Cormac glared at her but kept quiet.

"Right, then. Team, we'll start our regular three times a week next week – I'll let you know the days and times as soon as I've met with Madam Hooch and the other captains. Reserves, I'd like you to come to practice twice a month for now, and that might bump up to once a week when we get closer to a match. Again, I'll let you know exact days and times." Angelina glanced at her watch. "That's all I've got for you now, so you're free to go. Congratulations to all of you."

"Nice job, you lot," Harry said as he caught up to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny in the entrance hall. "And thanks for telling me you were all trying out!"

"Oh, shut it, Harry," Ginny replied, though she was grinning. "You don't like a good surprise once in a while?"

"Draco tried to do that in our second year, and Hermione punched him for it," Harry recalled.

"No – Draco didn't _try_ to do it, he _did_ do it," Hermione corrected him, causing both Harry and Ginny to laugh. Ron merely rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, so surprises aren't a good idea when Hermione's involved," he said dismissively. "What matters is that we're all in, yeah?"

"It does," Hermione agreed, "though I'm glad Angelina only wants the reserves there a few times a month – we have so much homework already!"

"Trust you to worry about homework," Ron said with a snort.

"Of course I'm worried about homework – it's O.W.L. year!" Hermione cried. "I've been working late every night and it's only September – it's only going to get worse."

"I think the other important question," Ginny interrupted, sensing Ron's desire to argue and cutting it off as quickly as she could, "is what we're going to do about Defense."

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked. It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes.

"Surely even you've noticed that Defense classes are useless, Ron," she said. "She assigned everyone the same book, and I dunno about your year, but she just makes us read from the book the entire period."

"Same here," Harry said. "And it's probably the most boring book I've ever read – considering everything we've read for Binns, that's saying something." He gave the password, and the Fat Lady's portrait swung open.

"It really is an awful book," Hermione agreed as she climbed after Harry into the common room. "And I can't imagine how we're going to pass our Defense O.W.L. without ever practicing any spells…"

"Oh come off it, Hermione," Ron scoffed. "We all know you could get straight O's tomorrow with your wand arm tied behind your back."

"That's hardly true, Ron," Hermione insisted, though she did turn pink at his words. "The point is, we're learning absolutely nothing, and since Defense is probably our most important subject given the whole Voldemort issue, that's a huge problem."

"But remember, Maya," Harry said, "Umbridge insists that we don't need to know how to defend ourselves coz there's nothing to defend ourselves from."

"And we all know that everything that woman says is complete and utter bullshit," Ginny said bluntly as she flopped down onto the sofa. "Are we really going to put up with this rubbish all year?"

"Well, what else are we going to do?" Ron asked exasperatedly. "It's not like we can just magically make her go away, you know."

"We can't," Hermione acknowledged, "not without good reason. But just because we aren't learning anything from Umbridge doesn't mean we can't still learn."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward with his chin in his hands and his elbows resting on his thighs.

"Well, we could always teach ourselves," Hermione suggested. "We already practice dueling anyway – what's the difference if we add in some new spells?"

"That," Harry said with a nod, "is a _brilliant _idea."

"More work is what it is," Ron muttered. "Hermione, you already said even you are swamped with homework, and yet you're suggesting adding even _more_ work to that?"

"Ron, shut up," Ginny snapped. "This isn't about homework, this is about the fact that we're wasting an entire year if we don't do something. It's pretty safe to say that Voldemort's forces are getting stronger again, and we'll be in big trouble if we don't act on that." Satisfied at Ron's embarrassed expression, she continued, "I think it might be a good idea to let other people in on this – people we know we can trust, obviously. If this is about learning to defend ourselves, don't we want as many people on our side as we can get?"

"That's a good point," Harry said, nodding again. "But how are we going to go about organizing this? It's not like we can just put up fliers or something, Umbridge definitely won't approve."

"First Hogsmeade weekend is coming up soon," Hermione said. "We can have a preliminary meeting then – we'll pass it along by word of mouth."

"Sounds as good a plan as any," Ginny said with a shrug. "Merlin knows it's better than doing nothing." The clock on the mantle chimed nine times then, and they all jumped.

"Damn – I still have to finish the last eight inches of my Charms essay," she said. "Keep me posted on the meeting time and place, yeah?" Harry and Hermione quickly agreed while Ron gave a noncommittal shrug in his sister's general direction, and Ginny quickly scampered up the girls' staircase and out of sight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't worry, Umbridge will get what's coming eventually. D.A. coming soon!**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Might even have another chapter for you soon - 3 day weekend, huzzah!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! AFC championship tonight - let's go Pats! :)**


	7. Decrees and Hogsmeade

The Monday before the first Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione had barely unrolled that morning's edition of the_ Daily Prophet_ when she coughed violently, just barely managing to keep herself from spraying orange juice all over the paper.

"Something wrong, Maya?" Harry asked, looking amused.

"Very," Hermione replied shortly. She pushed her plate to the side and flattened the newspaper so that Harry could clearly see the large photo of Umbridge plastered across the front page. The headline beneath the picture read, _'Dolores Umbridge Appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor'._

"Do I want to know what a 'High Inquisitor' is?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"Probably not," Hermione said, "but we need to know." She tugged the paper closer and began to read:

_"With the passage of Educational Decree Twenty-Two this past summer, the Ministry took its first in what appears to be a series of steps involving educational reform at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Said decree addresses the issue of teaching vacancies at Hogwarts, stating that if the headmaster is unable to find a suitable candidate for any particular post, the task shall fall to the Ministry. Last night, the Ministry took that power one step further when they passed Educational Decree Twenty-Three, which creates the position of 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor.'_

_"Educational Decree Twenty-Two, of course, was invoked when Albus Dumbledore failed to appoint a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a position that has proven notoriously difficult to fill in recent years. In response, the Ministry chose Dolores Umbridge, former Senior Undersecretary to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, to fill the post, and so far, the results have been extremely promising."_

"'Extremely promising'?" Harry repeated, unable to believe what he was reading. "Who the hell thinks she's been 'extremely promising'?" Hermione shrugged and continued:

_"'The Minister is very pleased with Professor Umbridge's immediate success in revolutionizing Defense Against the Dark Arts,' says Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister. 'She brings to the table what the subject has been lacking for years – a steady, reliable curriculum, as well as invaluable feedback regarding the goings-on at Hogwarts. Her acceptance of the High Inquisitor position in addition to her normal teaching duties is an absolute delight, and we have already received approving testimonies from dozens of parents.'_

_"And indeed, many parents have been expressing concerns for some time now that Hogwarts might not be operating up to its usual standards. At least some of those fears should be alleviated with the new law's passing – the High Inquisitor will be responsible for inspecting all Hogwarts teachers to make sure that they meet the high expectations associated with one of the Wizarding world's most prestigious institutions._

_"'Dolores Umbridge has already done great things for Hogwarts, and we can only expect more of the same in light of this auspicious appointment,' Weasley concluded." _

The article ended with a number of quotes from parents of Hogwarts students – Harry and Hermione recognized several of the names, including, to their dismay, Tracey Davis' father – and the irate responses of two former Wizengamot members who had resigned immediately upon the law's passing.

"So now we know how Umbridge ended up here," Harry said sourly as he took a bite of his toast. After swallowing it down with a large gulp of juice, he added, "And she's got the power to inspect the other teachers? That won't go over well."

"No, I bet it won't," Hermione agreed. "I can't see someone like Professor McGonagall putting up with this…but they'll really have to be careful. One wrong move, and Umbridge'll report them to Fudge. We can't afford to lose anyone."

"And what's gotten into Percy? I'll bet the Weasleys aren't too happy about that…"

* * *

><p>For the next few days, all anyone could talk about was Educational Decree Twenty-Three. Harry and his friends didn't have any inspected lessons during that time, but several of their friends did – for the most part, it seemed that Umbridge was a quiet background presence during inspections, occasionally asking questions of the students or professors but otherwise staying out of the way. Hermione reaffirmed her belief that they needed to practice Defense on their own – "These decrees just prove that we won't be getting outside help anytime soon" – and so they began to discreetly spread the word.<p>

"I hate Montague," Draco muttered as he finished up a Potions essay on Thursday night.

"More like you hate Crabbe and Goyle," Harry reminded him. He flipped through the pages of his Transfiguration text, trying to remember what McGonagall had told them earlier that week about vanishing vertebrates.

"Page thirty-seven," Draco said, then continued, "of course I hate Crabbe and Goyle, but Montague chose them for the team in the first place…" The problem was that Montague, the new Slytherin Quidditch captain, had chosen Crabbe and Goyle as Slytherin's new Beaters. Unfortunately, the two fifth-years were just as thick as they'd always been, and as Slytherin was slated to play Ravenclaw in the first match of the season, Montague had scheduled an extra practice during the Hogsmeade trip in the hopes that they might be able to learn one end of their Beaters' bats from the other. As Draco was still on the team as well, he would be missing out on both the trip and their Defense meeting.

"It's just a preliminary meeting to gauge interest, you know that," Hermione said, the pages of her book rustling softly as she turned them. "We'll make sure the first actual meeting is on a night with no Quidditch practices."

"That could get interesting," Harry mused. They'd only told a handful of people about their idea, but what if the group grew? Could they feasibly schedule regular meetings around up to four different Quidditch schedules?

* * *

><p>Saturday morning was bright and sunny, a brisk wind reminding them that it was indeed fall as they made their way into Hogsmeade. After a quick stop in Honeydukes – Draco had made them promise that they'd at least bring him back some chocolate frogs, and they wanted to stock up on their own favorites as well – Harry and Hermione headed towards the open field across from the Hog's Head pub. They'd immediately ruled out the Three Broomsticks, which was always packed with students (and occasionally staff), but the Hog's Head had a bit of a reputation, and they weren't sure about meeting there either – the Hog's Head was the type of place where patrons kept their identities hidden, and they didn't want to risk being overheard by someone unsavory. The field, however, was fair game – it wasn't unusual to see Hogwarts students lounging around the village's many open spaces on a nice day, and as long as their group didn't get <em>too<em> big, the chances that anyone would stop to ask awkward questions were pretty low. The two friends found a particularly grassy spot a little ways from the main road and sat down to wait.

"Hey, you two!" Ginny called as she hurried up. She was carrying a large bag bearing the logo of the Three Broomsticks, and Harry and Hermione cheered when Ginny tossed them each a butterbeer.

"My treat," she insisted. When they made to protest, she added, "Don't even tell me there aren't sweets for me in that bag." The two fifth-years had to concede defeat at that point, as they had indeed included Ginny's favorites in their Honeydukes purchases.

It took them a moment to notice that Ginny hadn't arrived alone, but when they did, they saw that she had been followed by Dean Thomas, Parvati Patil, and Demelza Robins. Minutes later, a second wave of people came up the hill, this one made up of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, Neville and his girlfriend Susan Bones, Ron, Luna, Eloise Midgen, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, and a group of Ravenclaws Harry didn't know.

"Er…hi everyone," he said. He certainly hadn't expected this many people – and who had told the Ravenclaws? Luna wasn't exactly the social butterfly of her house…

"I hope you don't mind, Harry," Parvati said hastily. "I…er…I thought Padma might be interested and passed along the message." She nodded towards the dark-haired girl next to her, who was obviously her twin.

"No, no, it's fine," Harry assured her, just glad that that particular mystery had been solved. "The more the merrier, yeah?" He faltered for a moment and looked to Hermione, unsure of what to say next. Padma, however, spoke before either of them could.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I guess you don't really know who we are, do you? I'm Padma Patil." The other Ravenclaws introduced themselves as well – Harry recognized Anthony Goldstein's name from Draco's recounting of the prefects, and the petite brunette with the bright blue eyes at his side was Mandy Brocklehurst. Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin were both tall with dark hair and eyes, and they looked curious to hear what the Gryffindors had to say.

"So…who here is satisfied with Defense class this year?" Hermione asked. The assembled students immediately voiced their opinions to the contrary until Hermione held up a hand for silence.

"I think we get the point," she said. "We're not learning anything in Defense, and given the current state of the Wizarding world, that's a major problem."

"I agree," Terry said. He tossed his head impatiently to get his hair out of his eyes. "My parents' hometown was leveled during the last major uprising – what if something like that happens again?"

"Exactly," Ginny nodded, "which is why we think it's time to take matters into our own hands – that is, teach ourselves Defense."

"Not a bad idea," Susan admitted. "And I suppose it helps that we've got two of the best Defense students in our year proposing the idea."

"Well, that's not really the point," Hermione said quickly in an attempt to cover up her blush. "The point is that Terry's right – what if something major happens again? And to be honest, it's more a matter of _when,_ not _if_ – whether you believe that Voldemort" – several people jumped in surprise as she said the name – "has returned or not is irrelevant; he _will_ come back eventually, and I don't think he'll let us off for being underage."

"Like hell he would," Anthony snorted. "He went after Harry here when he was still a baby, and my parents know plenty of people who lost children or other younger family members."

"My uncle's entire family was slaughtered," Susan added solemnly. "The Death Eaters definitely don't take your age into consideration – if they want you gone, they go after you."

"Alright…so I think it's safe to say we're all in agreement here?" Hermione asked. Her question was met with various responses in the affirmative, and she nodded. "So now comes the problem of when to meet. We already have a decent location, but the timing could get tricky – we have to work around Quidditch schedules and prefect patrols."

"Does anybody know of anything going on this Wednesday night?" Harry suggested. "I know the Gryffindors don't have practice that night…" Nobody had any definitive objections against the coming Wednesday, so he said, "Alright, then. Let's say Wednesday night for now, and if we have to change it, we'll let you know."

"How are you going to contact us?" Lisa asked, turning her dark eyes towards Harry. "You can't exactly make an announcement in the Great Hall, I don't think Umbridge'll take to that…"

"You're right," Hermione said. "I've been thinking about it but don't have a foolproof method yet – for now, what if we appoint one person from each house to be a spokesperson of sorts? It would look odd if we just waltzed over to the Ravenclaw table to talk to any of you, since Umbridge undoubtedly knows we never have classes together, but it wouldn't look strange for, say, Parvati to talk to her sister, would it?"

"And Susan could easily be the Hufflepuff liaison," Harry added, "since she's with Neville." Padma and Susan readily agreed to play messenger, and Hermione nodded.

"Well…that's all for now, I guess. Feel free to pass along the details to anyone who isn't here today but you think might be interested. Just be careful, though – we _can't_ let Umbridge find out what we're up to."

"We will, Hermione," Fred promised. "You're not exaggerating when you say this is really important." With that, the meeting ended, and the students broke up into small groups for their return to the village proper.

"How'd it go?" Draco asked that night as they lounged in the Room of Requirement. He and Harry were currently engaged in a chess match, Hermione sprawled on the sofa next to them as she absentmindedly flicked through a spell book.

"Not bad, I think," Harry answered. He studied the board and ordered his rook to move two squares to the left. "We had about twenty people show up, actually. Didn't see Blaise or Tracey though…"

"That's because they were on a date," Hermione cut in, her tone making it sound like this should've been obvious. "Remember, their parents don't know about their relationship, so it's really hard for them to meet up on their actual anniversary."

"And how did you know that they were on a date today?" Draco asked as he prodded his bishop forward.

"Because I was the one who told Tracey our Defense idea, and she told me why they couldn't come to the meeting, of course."

"Alright, you win."

"Of course I do." Hermione looked smug, but she barely had time to duck the throw pillow Draco tossed her way.

"Oh, get a room, you two," Harry muttered with a grin.

* * *

><p>On Monday morning, Harry's spirits were dampened considerably when he saw the sign on the common room notice board, the words <em>Educational Decree Twenty-Four<em> marching across the top in neat letters. Once he was able to get close enough, he saw that the latest decree disbanded all student organizations. From there on out, no such group could exist without the High Inquisitor's knowledge and approval, and anyone found to have started or joined an unapproved group would be expelled.

"That woman has spies everywhere," he said to himself. They'd taken every possible precaution – and he knew for a fact that Umbridge herself hadn't been in Hogsmeade that day, as she'd been overseeing detention for a group of sixth-years – and yet she still had her suspicions? Or maybe she was just disbanding everything to take away all the fun at Hogwarts – so far, she'd certainly been succeeding in _that_ department. At any rate, they'd have to be extremely careful from then on.

Angelina Johnson caught up with Harry as he was leaving Gryffindor Tower to go to breakfast.

"Harry, don't do _anything_ to get yourself in trouble with Umbridge this week," she almost pleaded.

"Ang, I only ever had the one detention, and I definitely don't fancy another with that woman," Harry said with a sigh.

"That new decree – it includes teams," Angelina pointed out. "I need to ask _permission_ to reform our Quidditch team – I'm just telling everyone to behave so she doesn't have any excuse to give us trouble." Harry almost growled when Angelina told him this latest news – messing with their classes was one thing, but messing with _Quidditch?_ Absolutely not.

"I'll be good," Harry promised. "There's no way in hell I'm letting _her_ muck up our Quidditch season." They'd reached the Great Hall by then, and Harry went to join Hermione, who was once again frowning at the _Prophet._

"I take it there's an article about the newest decree?" he asked as he reached for the sausages.

"I'd love to know why nobody's said anything about this," Hermione replied. "For all the 'pleased' parents they mentioned in the last article, there have to be just as many who are absolutely furious."

"Ah, but why would they ever mention anything like that?" Harry pointed out, his sarcasm evident. "That'd go directly against their agenda. Pass the strawberry jam, would you?" Hermione reached over and handed him the requested jar, and Harry immediately began spreading the sweet substance onto his toast, pausing when he felt his pocket warm. He carefully extracted his charmed parchment and had to stop himself from laughing when he read the message in Padfoot's rounded writing:

_What did you three do now?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What did they do indeed...hahaha. First DA meeting coming up soon!**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Hope you're all enjoying the story so far - please let me know what you think regardless!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	8. A Lesson in Prejudice

Harry couldn't resist sharing the note with Hermione, who immediately rolled her eyes.

"Jumping to conclusions much, Padfoot?" she quipped. Harry had already grabbed a quill from his bag and was scribbling a response:

_I have no idea what you're talking about._

Sirius wrote back almost immediately:

_Nice try, but Dung told us it was you._

Harry and Hermione stared at the parchment, both very confused.

_Dung?_ Harry wrote, wondering what on earth _that_ had to do with anything.

_Mundungus Fletcher - 'Mundungus' is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Anyway, he saw you and Maya sitting with a bunch of people outside the Hog's Head on Saturday. It was such a strange group of people that he mentioned it when he dropped by HQ last night - honestly, when have you ever mentioned Ravenclaws before?_

"Cheeky bugger," Harry muttered. "Too damn clever for his own good." He chuckled though, appreciating the humor in his godfather's message.

"Do you think we should tell him the truth?" Hermione asked, sounding doubtful.

"Maya, it's Padfoot - I think he'd appreciate how Marauder-like the whole thing is," Harry replied. "And besides, I don't think he'd object to what we're doing - he _is_ in the Order, after all." He picked up the quill again:

_I dunno how much you know about our new DADA teacher?_

_You mean the fact that she's Fudge's lapdog, or that she's a horrible person?_ Sirius joked.

_Both, I guess - she really is about as nice as your mum. The Ministry's latest approach to DADA is completely theoretical - all we do is read. No casting spells and nothing about actually defending ourselves - they seem to think we don't need it._

_Of course - Fudge would rather eat his own hat than admit anything's wrong._

_That wouldn't exactly be a loss, _Harry pointed out, recalling the ugly green bowler hat the Minister favored.

_True, but that's beside the point. Would it be far-fetched to say that your meeting was an attempt to do something about this DADA situation?_

_Considering that's _exactly_ what it was...no._

_Oh, you truly are a Marauder, Harry James Potter - Prongs would be so proud._

"I can see the mock crying all the way from here," Harry said, and the two friends burst into laughter as they imagined Sirius exaggeratedly wiping away nonexistent tears.

_What's so funny?_ This latest message came from Draco - when Harry looked up, he saw his brother staring at him from the Slytherin table, a questioning expression on his face.

_Padfoot figured out what we're doing re: DADA and was just being..._

_Padfoot?_ Draco suggested, smirking at the Gryffindors from across the hall. _He's not mad, is he?_

_Nah - he thinks it's a good idea. At least, he said we were 'true Marauders' for doing it, anyway._

_Which basically means he's given us the all-clear. Not that we needed it in the first place, of course._

_Of course. Better go, it's almost time for Binns._

_Ugh - at least we've got Charms. Later._

Harry shook his head, still chuckling to himself as he put his parchment away. Hermione was once more frowning at the paper.

"Harry...do you remember where Percy was working last year?"

"The Ministry - why?"

"No, no - which department?"

"Oh...er, International Magical Cooperation, right? Under Crouch?" In response, Hermione slid the paper over again and pointed to the article, which featured more quotes from the Weasley in question.

"I don't know why I didn't notice it before - probably because we were too shocked by the whole High Inquisitor thing - but Percy's now the Junior Assistant to the Minister."

"Bit young, don't you think?" said Ginny, who had arrived just in time to catch Hermione's statement. "Yeah, that went over really well." She wasted no time in preparing a bowl of porridge and scooped a large spoonful into her mouth.

"Mmm...that hits the spot," she said once she'd swallowed. "Anyway, his promotion caused a huge row at our house, not too long before we all went to Grimmauld for the summer. Dad reckons Fudge promoted Percy as a way to keep an eye on us Weasleys - Dad's not exactly in a prominent position, but Fudge knows he's loyal to the Order. Percy was furious, called Dad all sorts of horrible things before saying that anyone who didn't support the Ministry was a traitor and that sticking with the Order would eventually be our downfall. He packed his bags and left that night, and we haven't seen him since."

"Whoa," Harry muttered, struggling to take it all in. Sure, Percy had always been a bit on the ambitious side, and he was far too self-centered for his own good, but he wasn't that bad overall...his desertion of his extremely tight-knit family was definitely a low blow.

"Don't worry about it," Ginny said dismissively as she swallowed another mouthful of her breakfast. "If Percy wants to be a tunnel-visioned arse, there's not much we can do about it."

"Besides prove that he's wrong, of course," Harry pointed out. Ginny nodded.

"True. We're still on for Wednesday?"

"Mhmm. We weren't supposed to have Quidditch practice anyway, and now we definitely won't – I wouldn't be surprised if Umbridge decides to hold out on giving Angelina permission to reform the team just to make us all sweat." Harry rolled his eyes as he stood from the bench and swung his schoolbag over his shoulder. Hermione was already waiting, the rolled-up _Prophet_ tucked under her arm.

"History of Magic…fun. Later, Gin." Ginny raised a hand in farewell, and the two fifth-years set off to begin another deadly dull Monday.

* * *

><p>Despite the tension that had been mounting ever since the start of term, Hermione was in good spirits when she left the library on Wednesday evening after dinner, bound for the seventh floor. The first official meeting of their little Defense group was due to start at seven o'clock – Harry had asked her if she and Draco might do a little demonstration to kick things off, and she'd immediately agreed, more than ready to put her spell arsenal to good use. She was deep in thought, curious about how many people they could expect and eager to get some good dueling in, and as such she ran right into someone when she made to take a shortcut concealed behind a tapestry on the fifth floor.<p>

"Ouch!"

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry!" Hermione cried, immediately trying to disentangle herself from whoever she'd just knocked over. She blushed upon realizing that she'd actually toppled _two_ people, not just one, and her blush turned to a gasp of shock when she recognized them.

"Oh…hey, Herms," Ginny said sheepishly, her face as red as her hair. Dean Thomas was sprawled beside her, and the tall boy immediately scrambled to his feet when he saw Hermione.

"Something you want to tell me, Gin?" Hermione asked amusedly, popping her hip to one side as she crossed her arms over her chest. Upon closer inspection, Ginny's hair was a tangled mess, her lips were swollen, and her jumper was crooked. Dean's uniform shirt was wrinkled, far more so than what could just be passed off as teenage laziness, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Both looked extremely embarrassed.

"Dean's my boyfriend," Ginny mumbled, flushing even redder upon her admission. "Has been since the start of term."

"And you jumped on me less than a week after the Yule ball for not telling you about Draco and I," Hermione snickered. "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny…" She shook her head slowly, doing her best to fight the urge to laugh.

"Ok, so I fail in the friendship department," Ginny muttered, still looking decidedly flustered. "Won't happen again."

"It's fine," Hermione assured her. "But I expect details." Dean blanched and coughed violently.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked him, still smiling. He shook his head.

"Er…no," he said. "To be honest, I was half expecting to be blasted to smithereens…" Hermione laughed heartily.

"Dean, it's alright," she said. "I think it's sweet." And she really did – Dean wasn't necessarily her type, but he was handsome in his own right, as well as kind, thoughtful, and a fabulous artist. Definitely a good choice.

"Meeting's starting soon, you know," Hermione continued, careful to keep her voice low. Everyone knew that _anything_ at Hogwarts could – and would – listen in on conversations, and this was definitely not something they wanted overheard.

"Yeah – we'll be there," Ginny promised.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Hermione said, smirking a little as she started to climb the stairs. She had a feeling that neither of her companions wanted to leave what they'd started unfinished and meant to give them a few minutes to do so – as she herself was with someone from a different house, Hermione could appreciate how difficult it could be to get in some uninterrupted alone time. Halfway up the stairs, she paused and turned again, stifling a laugh when she saw that the other two were already reaching for each other.

"Dean?" The boy in question jumped away from Ginny like he'd been burned and looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Like I said before, I think it's sweet – but do anything to hurt her…"

"…and I'll have you to answer to," Dean finished with a slight grin. Hermione winked.

"Exactly. See you in a bit." She turned and trotted up the remaining stairs, and the rest of her journey to the seventh floor passed without interruption. When she reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, she paced three times, concentrating hard, and the hidden door appeared. Without further ado, Hermione grabbed the handle and found herself in a slightly different version of their training room.

"Thought I might keep the original training room just for us," said Harry, who was perched atop a stack of cushions in the corner of the room. Draco was sprawled out on the floor, his discarded robes and tie serving as a makeshift pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He grinned when he caught sight of his girlfriend and sat up to pull her down for a quick kiss.

"I just ran into Ginny – she's on her way up," Hermione said as she pulled away and leaned back against the cushions. She decided to leave out the details of that particular encounter for now – the boys would spend the whole meeting teasing Ginny otherwise. "Any idea how many others are coming?"

"Not sure," Harry replied, launching himself off the cushions to land on all fours at her feet. "I think we might have a few more than were with us in Hogsmeade, though."

"Obviously," Draco drawled, once more leaning back on his crumpled robes. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"And _obviously_ nobody else counts, is that right?" Harry joked, stretching out and lightly kicking his brother's legs. Draco nodded sharply in response.

"Oh, grow up, you two," Hermione said, shaking her head fondly. Both boys stuck their tongues out at her, making her laugh, and she turned to the cushions.

"Can't hurt to set up," she said. With a wave of her wand, the cushions arranged themselves in a large circle on the floor. Just as the last cushion fell into place, there was a knock at the door, and a moment later, it opened to reveal Ginny, Dean, Parvati, Neville, and Susan.

"Wow," said Dean as he glanced around the room approvingly. "You weren't kidding when you said you had a good space…" Harry, Draco, and Hermione laughed, knowing it was far from the last they'd hear about their special room tonight.

The door opened several more times over the next ten minutes or so, and soon, every cushion was occupied. In addition to everyone who'd come to the Hogsmeade meeting, a number of others had come, including Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, Blaise and Tracey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, and another Hufflepuff boy they didn't recognize. The last to arrive was Cho Chang, Ravenclaw's Seeker, who slipped in with a curly-haired girl wearing an apprehensive expression. Harry was shocked at the final headcount.

"Er…hi, everyone," he said, once again not quite sure how to start. "For those of you who met us in Hogsmeade, welcome back, and for those of you joining us for the first time, thanks for coming. We've decided to start this little group to remedy the fact that we're getting absolutely nothing out of Defense lessons this year."

"Hear, hear!" said one of the Weasley twins, and Harry felt his courage lift at the emphatic declaration. He cleared his throat loudly and nodded.

"Umbridge has made it quite clear that we won't be doing anything more than reading in her presence this year, and what with everything that's happened recently-"

"So you're still of the opinion that You-Know-Who is back?" the unknown Hufflepuff boy interrupted. He had pointy features and wore a disdainful expression.

"Opinion?" Harry repeated, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "Is it your 'opinion' that accidental deaths involve threatening notes?" When most of the room's occupants gave him questioning looks, he added, "I'm assuming that quite a few of you are here because you're curious about how Cedric Diggory died. Sorry to disappoint you, but I can't tell you exactly – I wasn't there when it happened, only when he came back."

"Came back?" Padma Patil questioned, sounding almost nervous.

"Yes. The Triwizard Cup had been turned into a Portkey – as soon as Cedric touched it, he was gone. A few minutes later, both he and the Cup reappeared. Cedric was dead, and there was a piece of parchment attached to his robes." Hermione and Draco gasped when Harry pulled that exact parchment from his pocket – they had no idea he'd even taken it, never mind kept it.

"See for yourself," Harry said, and he passed the note around the circle. Many sharp intakes of breath and short sobs were heard as everyone read the message: _I have no use for spares._ Instead of a signature, the image of the Dark Mark shone beneath the blood-red words.

"What does the message mean?" Susan asked quietly once Harry had gotten it back.

"It was a set-up," he replied dully, "a trap – intended for me. _I_ was supposed to get to the Portkey first, _I _was supposed to disappear…but the plan failed. I got hurt in the maze, and Cedric got to the Cup first. He really was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"The point," said Luna, sensing that Harry wasn't sure how to continue after such a heavy tale, "is that the threat is real no matter whose version of things you believe, and not learning anything for an entire year could turn out to be a life-and-death matter. We might not be able to teach ourselves much, but whatever we do will be better than nothing." Harry stared at Luna in grateful disbelief – it was the most sensible thing he'd ever heard the younger Ravenclaw say, and her timing couldn't have been more perfect. In spite of her odd demeanor, Harry had to admit right then that there was much more to Luna than he'd originally thought.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Lee Jordan said. "I say we get started right away."

"Before we do," said Hermione, "I think we should all sign something, a…contract, of sorts, to say that we won't reveal what we're doing. This is really important, but if Umbridge hears about it, I have no doubt she'd expel us all in a heartbeat." She pulled out a quill and signed her name to the parchment. "I understand some of you might not be comfortable with this level of commitment, but there's really no other way around it. If you really can't handle the idea, you're free to go, but we're putting our trust in you that you don't rat us out – there's nothing to gain if you do." She passed the quill and parchment to Draco, who signed without hesitation. Not everyone signed so quickly, however – the parchment made several long stops at various points around the circle. Eventually, however, everyone had signed, and Susan passed the parchment to Harry, who added his name to finish off the list.

"There," said Hermione, tapping her wand to the parchment. It glowed faintly and she nodded, apparently satisfied. "Now I think we need a name – something we can use outside of this room without creating suspicion." A quick discussion began, and eventually, Ginny suggested the winning name – Dumbledore's Army, or the DA for short.

"The group was formed in response to the Ministry's ineptitude," she said. "Who's the Ministry most afraid of? Dumbledore." The name passed by an overwhelming majority, and Hermione scribbled the group's new name atop their contract before storing it safely in her bag.

"Now that we've got all the boring admin stuff out of the way, it's time to have some fun," Harry said. "Maya? Drake?" Hermione and Draco eagerly stood and moved away from the circle, Hermione discarding her robes and tightening her ponytail while Draco busied himself with asking the room for a spell-proof partition between them and the rest of the group.

"Who wants to see a duel?" Harry asked, and several people's eyes widened as Hermione and Draco faced off and bowed.

"And…GO!" Harry shouted. Hermione and Draco immediately began throwing hexes, multicolored lights flying in all directions as they ducked, dodged, and parried. Hermione's powerful shield charm sent Draco's leg-locker curse rebounding upon its caster, and Draco rolled to the side to avoid being hit. He fired off a jelly-legs jinx in retaliation, and Hermione almost fell over as she yelped and jumped out of the way. The duel continued in this manner for several minutes, neither party able to gain the upper hand. The magical partition kept their spells away from everyone else, but it didn't block out sound, and shrieks and gasps rang throughout the room as the duel continued. Deciding that they might as well fight the same way they had all summer, Draco unsheathed his dagger, flipping the blade in his palm three or four times before flinging it straight at Hermione and causing several of the onlookers to scream. Normally, Hermione would merely sidestep the knife and carry on, leaving Draco free to Summon it back if he got a good enough chance, but instead, she threw him for a loop by Transfiguring the deadly weapon into a flock of canaries, which immediately changed direction and charged. A well-placed Reductor curse caused the birds to vanish in an explosion of yellow feathers, but the split-second distraction was all Hermione needed. In an instant, Draco was Disarmed, Stunned, and flat on his back, Hermione straddling his hips as she pressed a dagger to his throat and her wand to his temple.

"I win," she said quietly. She slowly crawled off his lap and released the Stunner, and Draco couldn't help but chuckle at her audacity when he realized it was _his_ dagger in her hand, her own still resting in its place at her hip. Something in her spell must've caused it to return to her when the birds exploded. Clever, clever girl.

_"Damn," _Fred said once the partition was gone. He let out a low whistle as the two duelists rejoined the group. "That was…"

"Incredible?" George suggested.

"Almost uncomfortable," Fred added. "Like I was-"

"-watching something I shouldn't-"

"-almost intimate, in a way-"

"Ok, that's enough." This last comment came from Ron, who wasn't looking pleased.

"Something wrong, Ron?" Hermione asked, wiping sweat from her brow as if she'd done nothing more than go for a run.

"Yeah, something's wrong!" Ron retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "He threw a bloody _knife_ at you! Am I the only one who has a problem with that?"

"Ron, nothing happened," Hermione scolded. "I have one too, you know-"

"That's not the point," Ron interrupted.

"Then what _is_ the point?" Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes at the redhead.

"The _point_ is that this is all _wrong!" _Ron said vehemently. Hermione's eyes darkened considerably.

_"What_ exactly is _wrong_ about it?" she snapped. Ron swallowed hard at her expression.

"Ok, I get that you're friends with him, fine," he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "But everything else…that just isn't _right!"_ He gestured wildly between Hermione and Draco, and Hermione's expression went from mildly annoyed to furious within seconds.

"Are you really going to be that _juvenile,_ Ron?" she hissed. "Is that why you've made all those comments this year? Are you really _that_ stuck in your ideas of house prejudice that you can't stand the thought of a Gryffindor dating a Slytherin? What, exactly, am I _supposed_ to be doing?" Ron's eyes widened.

"I…er…"

"Oh, but it's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione continued. "If I were following the _rules,_ I would be dating a _Gryffindor_, because Merlin forbid anyone date outside their house! Who did you have in mind, Ron – yourself?" She snorted. "There are plenty of mixed-house couples at Hogwarts."

"But he's a Slytherin!" Ron protested.

"And that matters because…?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Hermione turned to address the rest of the group.

"Alright, time for a little reality check," she said sharply. "I want all of you to think back for a minute to your first year, your first time on the Hogwarts Express – who was the first person in your year that you talked to? If they're here, go stand with them, and if not, stay where you are." There was a moment of silence while everyone processed Hermione's request, and then they began moving, little partnerships forming throughout the room. When they'd finished, Hermione surveyed the room thoughtfully.

"Alright…raise your hand if you're standing next to someone from a different house," she requested. A surprising number of people raised their hands, including a disgruntled-looking Ron, who was standing next to Terry Boot.

"And the few of you who aren't with anyone – mind sharing who your partner would be?"

"Megan Jones – she's a Hufflepuff," Lisa Turpin volunteered.

"Kenneth Towler," said Lee Jordan.

"Pansy Parkinson."

_"What?"_ Everyone turned to stare at Hannah Abbott, who had gone bright pink.

"Sorry Hannah – did you say _Pansy Parkinson?"_ Draco asked.

"I did," she said with a nod. "Pansy and I knew each other for a long time before Hogwarts." Someone let out a disbelieving snort, and Hannah snapped, "Oh, grow up! My family's part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of _course_ I knew Pansy before Hogwarts! I also knew Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne and Astoria Greengrass – our parents threw us all together in hopes that we'd make 'proper' friends before school. Of course, Pansy abandoned me the instant I was Sorted into Hufflepuff, but that doesn't change the fact that we'd been friends for several years before that."

"Wow…I never knew," Harry said quietly. "Er…forgive me for saying so, but _why?_ I mean, their ideals don't exactly seem to…mesh with yours."

"None of those families had any Death Eaters in them – they were all more the type to trade large sums of gold in exchange for the right to remain neutral. It's why I knew those girls but not, say, Theodore Nott," Hannah said.

"Because his father is a known Death Eater," Harry replied.

"Exactly. My parents didn't agree with their neutrality, but it was easier to accept the dinner invites than to make a whole bunch of potentially dangerous enemies." Hannah shrugged. "Pansy was pushy and rude, but we both liked a lot of the same things – I learned pretty quickly that I probably wasn't going to get my way when she came over, but it was far from horrible."

"I think Hannah's story just proves your point, Hermione," Mandy Brocklehurst said. "The only reason we can identify each other by house right now is because most of us are still wearing our uniforms. We form all these prejudices based on house, and where does that leave us?"

"Fighting over stupid things instead of focusing on the bigger picture," Lisa concluded. She looked over at Draco and Hermione then. "Are you two actually together, then?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, the defiant look in her eyes daring anyone to object. "Since last Christmas."

"But they've known each other since they were seven," Harry added quickly. "Draco's my adopted brother, and the three of us are next-door neighbors."

"But…" Ernie didn't seem like he knew how to finish his question.

"Can't believe that the last of the Malfoys lives in a Muggle neighborhood, with a Muggle-born mum, a Muggle-born girlfriend, and an adopted brother who bested Voldemort?" Draco said with a smirk, ignoring the yelps that sounded when he said Voldemort's name. "You don't need to know the details, but I can assure you that it's all true."

"Wow…turns things on their head a bit, doesn't it?"

"Now that we've established that Draco's singlehandedly thrown everything off track," Harry joked, causing several people to laugh. "We've still got twenty minutes or so before we need to break for the night, so let's get to work. I thought we'd start with a Disarming spell…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Went to town with this one, didn't I? That was fun. In other news, it's SNOWING here (first real snow of the season, which is really odd for us).**

**Thanks for reading, as well as for the follows/faves/reviews! Love hearing what you all think.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	9. Conversations

Draco lounged on one of the couches in the Room of Requirement, his Potions textbook open on the armrest next to him. Snape had already dropped two pop quizzes on them in the last week and a half, and Draco suspected that the Potions master was far from done – it _was _O.W.L. year, after all. Moonstone had featured heavily in their lectures as of late, and so Draco was reviewing the ingredient's many properties – and even if moonstone didn't feature in their next quiz, it was still a good subject to go over. An irritated sniff pulled him away from his notes, and he raised his eyebrows in question as he looked down.

"Something wrong, Lotte?" he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the rest of the room's occupants. Blaise was deeply immersed in the extremely difficult problem set Professor Vector had given their Arithmancy class, Tracey was writing an essay on the giant wars for History of Magic, and Harry and Ginny were busy planning the next meeting of Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione's head was currently resting on the throw pillow situated in Draco's lap, her thick curls sprawled out over the pillow's velvety surface. Her upturned knees acted as a desk of sorts for her copy of _Hogwarts, A History,_ and her nose scrunched up as she frowned at the book.

"Yes," she huffed. "For once in my life, _Hogwarts, A History_ is failing me." She gestured towards the low coffee table, where a short stack of parchment rested next to Draco's propped-up feet. Upon closer inspection, the papers proved to be all of their notes on the Sorting Hat's prophecy and the Legend of the Founders' Rings. Hermione had drawn a grid on the topmost sheet, with one large block for each of the four founders – Gryffindor's block said 'Godric's Hollow' in big letters, and Slytherin's name had a short list underneath, but Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's were blank.

"I'm doing research on the lives of the founders – where they lived, that sort of thing," Hermione explained, anticipating Draco's question before he could even ask it. "I know we need to figure out who's supposed to wear the rings eventually, but knowing that won't do us any good if we don't have the rings to begin with. I thought maybe looking into the founders' backgrounds might help."

"I would think so," Draco agreed. "So what's the problem?" Hermione huffed again.

"The _problem_ is Rowena Ravenclaw," she said, sounding annoyed. "It's well documented that Godric Gryffindor has connections to Godric's Hollow – the village is named for him, you know – and while Slytherin's exact whereabouts weren't exactly common knowledge, I still found traces of some of his possessions cropping up through the centuries." Draco glanced at the grid again and saw that Slytherin's list was actually a series of names and dates.

"Obviously, it'll be much more difficult to look into those names for clues about his ring, but it's better than nothing," Hermione continued. "We don't have to worry about Hufflepuff – which is kind of a shame; her life is the most well-documented of them all. Ravenclaw, however…"

"Yes, you've already established that Ravenclaw is the problem," Draco said, shooting her an amused glance. She narrowed her eyes at him and punched his arm the best she could from her upside-down vantage point.

"As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted…" she paused for dramatic effect, and Draco had to bite his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. He knew Hermione was trying to make a point, but he just couldn't take her seriously when she scrunched up her nose like that – the result was far more cute than it was terrifying.

"Ravenclaw poses a problem because her direct line ended when she died. Her only child, a daughter, was murdered without having married or had children, and Rowena herself died not long after that, supposedly from guilt."

"Guilt?" Draco repeated.

"Rowena and her daughter had been at odds for quite a while, and Rowena wanted to see her one last time before she died – she was very ill and knew she didn't have long. So she sent a man who'd long been in love with her daughter to find her, knowing that the man wouldn't stop until he'd carried out her request. I suppose nobody really knows what happened after that, but the next thing Rowena knew, she'd received word that both her daughter and the young man were dead. Though she was dying already, it seems that that last heartbreak was what sent her over the edge."

"That's…really sad," Draco said after a moment, his face pensive.

"It is," Hermione said solemnly. "One of the most brilliant witches in the history of…well, ever, and even she wasn't immune to horrible things like that."

"I don't suppose you know why she and her daughter were fighting?"

"No," Hermione said, jostling the pillow a little as she shook her head. "I haven't found anything about that, nor have I found anything else about Ravenclaw's family – I have no idea how we're going to trace her ring."

"Have you considered the fact that the rings have moved around through time?" Draco asked. "Remember, Dumbledore said he'd found accounts of as many as three of the rings being in the same place at the same time – the chances of one of those rings being Ravenclaw's is pretty high."

"I know," Hermione sighed, sounding agitated, "which is why this is so hard. I mean, I think it's safe to say that the rings that _were_ found were kept in a safe place, but finding that safe place is another story entirely."

"Hush, love. You don't have to solve all the world's problems in one day." Draco reached over and covered Hermione's hand with his, soothing the tension in her knuckles with his thumb. Hermione sighed again and relaxed into the soothing motion.

"I know. It's just frustrating, that's all."

"Why don't you find something else to read for a bit? Take your mind off things," Draco suggested. "Maybe work on the ending of your Charms essay?"

"Finished it last night," Hermione replied, looking up at him.

"Course you did," Draco said, chuckling a little. "Why am I not surprised…"

* * *

><p>"What d'you think they're talking about over there?"<p>

"Hmm?"

"Herms and Draco." Harry glanced up in time to see Ginny's nod in the direction of the sofa, where his brother and best friend were deep in conversation. Hermione looked frustrated, but something Draco said must've done the trick because she laughed a little and relaxed further back into the pillow she was leaning on as she flipped to a different part of her book. Draco's attention returned to his own book, his fingers idly playing with Hermione's curls as the pair read.

"Not sure," he said quietly. "I think Maya said something about researching the legend – maybe that's it?" He couldn't be sure from his current spot, but the soft brown binding of the book resting against Hermione's legs looked very familiar, and he thought it might be _Hogwarts, A History._ He turned back to the parchments in front of him – he and Ginny had been discussing Dumbledore's Army for the last half an hour, and they'd come up with a number of good ideas for spells to teach the group. The Disarming spells that they'd practiced in their first meeting had shown that most of the members needed some serious practice of basic wand work, and the two friends had managed to compile a list of simple but useful spells that would help them do just that. They'd only had one other meeting since then, but it had gone well, and Harry was optimistic that the group would only continue to grow as term progressed.

The biggest downside, of course, was finding a decent meeting time that worked for everyone. Zacharias Smith, the pointy-faced boy who'd sneered at Harry during the first meeting, played Quidditch for Hufflepuff, which meant that they had to contend with all four teams' practices plus the prefects' patrol schedule – as their numbers consisted of at least one prefect from each house as well, finding a time that worked for everyone was nothing short of a nightmare. When their second meeting had taken a full two weeks to schedule, Harry knew that wasn't going to work – weekly meetings were essential if they hoped to make any sort of progress. In the end, he'd decided that he would choose a different day each week, working around the Gryffindor practices and prefect schedule – as the co-leaders of the DA, Harry figured that at least he and Hermione ought to be at every meeting. Those who were free at the chosen time would come, and they would run quick review sessions at the beginning of subsequent meetings so that nobody would miss anything. It wasn't a perfect system, but it was the best they could do given the circumstances.

"Do you think we'll ever be like them?" Once again, Ginny's voice broke through his musings, and he turned to look at her. She was watching Draco and Hermione with a wistful expression on her face, her hand propping up her chin.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "At least you don't have to hide your relationship." Dean, absolutely petrified at the thought of what Ron might do if he caught him with Ginny the way Hermione had, had told his dorm mates about his relationship during their game night the weekend after the first DA meeting. Ron had spluttered and coughed and loudly questioned why the hell anyone in their right mind would want to date his baby sister, which made Dean blush horribly and the others laugh, and the other boys had offered both their congratulations and a number of embarrassing jibes, which had only added to the laughter. Now that their relationship was out in the open, Ginny and Dean frequently walked the corridors hand in hand, occasionally exchanging chaste kisses when they separated for classes. What was more important, though, was their house affiliation – even though they were in different years, they were both Gryffindors, and thus nobody questioned them. Inter-house relationships, on the other hand, tended to garner a lot more attention – Neville and Susan were just as discreet, yet curious looks had followed them wherever they went for weeks before people got used to it, and students still occasionally did a double take when they saw the couple in the corridors. Draco and Hermione, however, were a completely different story. With the general hostility between Gryffindor and Slytherin still going strong – not to mention the unwanted attention it would attract from a prying Umbridge, who was bound to spin the unusual partnership into something it wasn't – there was absolutely zero chance of them holding hands in the corridors or stealing kisses between classes. Not that they would've done so anyway, but that was beside the point.

"Earth to Harry…" Fingers snapped in front of his face and Harry blinked, belatedly realizing that he'd gone off on a mind tangent and completely missed whatever it was that Ginny had said. His cheeks warmed and Ginny chuckled.

"Off in your own world, were you?" she joked. "I was just saying that I don't pity them at all – if anything, I envy them."

"Huh?" Harry asked, knowing he'd really lost the train of the conversation entirely.

"They're so…natural with each other," Ginny said softly. "They might not be able to show it out in public, but who cares? They're not the type of people who want to do that sort of thing anyway, and even if they were, they don't need to. It doesn't take a grand gesture to see how in love they are."

Harry looked back at the couple on the couch and thought about what Ginny had just said, and as he did, he realized she was right. Their subtle touches, the way that they looked at each other, their natural attunement to one another…it all spoke volumes, far more than a passionate kiss in a crowded room. Seven really was a magical number, Harry thought – those two had found each other at age seven and had never looked back. They hadn't needed to.

"I suppose you're right," he finally said, just as quietly. "And to answer your earlier question, I think we could, sure. We just have to find the right people first, make that…connection." He wasn't sure if he'd explained his thoughts properly, but Ginny seemed to understand.

"Yeah…not everyone's so lucky right off, I guess," she said. She fiddled with her quill, not really seeing it as she ran her fingers along the feather's edge.

"Do you feel anything like that…" Harry began, then abruptly cut himself off. Ginny might be one of his best friends, but it was an exceptionally personal question, and he felt rather rude for even thinking it.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, correctly interpreting his silence and choosing to answer anyway. Harry was inwardly relieved that she hadn't been offended – but then again, it was hard to be easily offended when you'd grown up with Fred and George.

"Oh, I definitely like Dean," Ginny continued, now tracing lazy circles on a corner of their parchment. "I just…don't think he's it, you know? Merlin, is that insensitive of me, talking like that about my boyfriend?"

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "Not at all, I don't think – after all, you just said not everyone can find their perfect match the first go-around. I know a few people who've gone through multiple relationships already – isn't that how most people do it?"

"True," Ginny acknowledged. "Alright, that makes me feel a bit better – thanks, Harry."

"No problem. Now that we're done gossiping like prepubescent girls, what do you think about these two jinxes for our next meeting?" Ginny had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter and punched his shoulder, Harry grinning cheekily all the while.

* * *

><p>Across the room, Draco had stopped reading and was smirking slightly at the sight of the two Gryffindors. He couldn't hear what they were saying – it seemed everyone was keeping quiet tonight – but he didn't need to. He'd been watching them ever since they'd all moved into Grimmauld Place over the summer, and he was convinced that his brother had a thing for the youngest Weasley. The signs weren't outwardly obvious, no, but Draco had been speaking the language of subtlety with his own girl for over eight years now, and as a result, the hints hadn't gone unnoticed. A glance that was just a touch too attentive, a hug that was just a beat too long to be merely friendly…oh yes, it was all there, all right. He'd never get Harry to admit it, of course – Harry was too much of an honorable Gryffindor to even say something like that aloud when the girl in question was dating one of his friends – but the attraction was there nevertheless.<p>

"Pity she's with Dean, isn't it?"

Draco looked down at Hermione, who was wearing a smirk very similar to his own.

"Why's it a pity?" he asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant. "Dean's a good bloke, is he not?"

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione said sincerely. "Dean's a lovely person, and he treats her very well. I just think those two would be good together, that's all."

"Hmmm."

"Well, it's like she said – not everyone can be like us."

"How do you know what she said?" Draco asked, cocking his head to one side in question. "Did I miss an entire conversation or something?" Instead of answering, Hermione reached up and pulled a flesh-colored string from her ear.

"Extendable Ears – prototype of Fred and George's," she explained. "I don't know _why_ I agreed to test them, but I must say that they do work rather well."

"Hermione Jean, you sneaky little minx," Draco said, shaking his head at her amusedly. "How positively Slytherin of you."

"Oh, hush," Hermione said, though she looked pleased. "Fred and George will be glad to hear that they work."

"So what else did they say about us?" Draco asked quietly. "What did they mean by 'not everyone can be like us'?"

"They were talking about people being right for one another," Hermione replied, smiling slightly. Draco hummed lightly in response and gently stroked her cheek.

"What are Blaise and Tracey talking about, then?" he murmured. Hermione laughed.

"You don't want to know," she said. "I'm surprised Blaise said half of what he did with anyone around at all, even if he thought they couldn't hear." Draco shrugged.

"He doesn't care – remember what he said on the train last year? 'I'm Italian – romance is what we do!'" Hermione couldn't help her hearty laughter at that.

"What're you two lovebirds up to now?" Ginny called, looking amused.

"Nothing," they said simultaneously, causing everyone, including themselves, to crack up.

"Have you guys heard of the Inquisitorial Squad?" Tracey asked once the laughter had died down.

"Nope," Harry said, mimicking his brother's posture and propping his feet up on his table. "What's that?"

"Umbridge's latest attempt at taking over," Tracey said darkly. "She's only just started it, but it has the potential to cause all sorts of trouble."

"What exactly is it, Tracey?" Hermione pressed.

"It's a group of students," Tracey said, "students loyal to Umbridge who, from what I understand, are going to be in charge of patrolling the school and keeping an eye on things."

"And reporting back to her, thus giving her even more of a hold over us than she already has," concluded Draco.

"Exactly."

"That's going to make things significantly more difficult," Hermione said with a frown. "I mean, the DA currently has just over thirty members, with the potential to grow if we find others who are interested – how on earth are we going to get everyone to meetings without getting caught if Umbridge now has a group of students doing her dirty work?"

"Actually, I don't think it'll cause any problems at all," Tracey said, causing everyone else to look at her in surprise.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because I plan to join the Inquisitorial Squad."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter brought to you by the blizzard known as Juno - so much snow! Snow day today, snow day tomorrow...fun stuff. I'll take writing time over work any day.**

**This chapter was supposed to end somewhere else, but the characters didn't want to stop talking/introspecting/etc. Funny how that works sometimes...lots of surprises (I hope) coming up in the next few chapters, so stay tuned! Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading. Your thoughts are always welcome!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	10. Shocking News

Nobody said anything for several long moments following Tracey's declaration. Even though they'd all been exceptionally quiet for most of the evening, the total silence was almost deafening.

"You're going to _what?"_ Harry finally said, his jaw dropping slightly as he stared at Tracey in disbelief.

"I'm going to join the Inquisitorial Squad," Tracey repeated. When everyone else continued to stare at her as if she'd gone mad, she rolled her eyes and said, "Listen – Umbridge forming this group is definitely going to make it harder for things, specifically the DA, to go undetected. Hermione was right about that. So we're going to beat her at her own game and put someone on the inside."

"While I don't deny that that's a brilliant idea, Trace, why _you?" _Draco asked. "No offense, but you're not exactly my first pick when I think of a spy."

"Which is why it makes sense for me to do it, you dunce," Tracey retorted. "Besides, I have something that you don't – connections to the Ministry." Draco raised his eyebrows in question, and the Slytherin girl sighed and sank back into her armchair, looking exasperated.

"Umbridge works for the Ministry – we all know that," she began. "We all know she's reporting back to Fudge on everything that goes on around here, and we all know that both of them are doing their best to discredit anything Dumbledore puts out there. She's realized, though, that she'll have a lot more to tell Fudge if she has more eyes and ears to do her snooping – thus, the formation of the Squad. I got this when the post arrived this morning." Tracey reached down and fumbled with the clasp on her bag until it eventually popped open, and she rummaged through her papers a bit before finding what she was looking for. The parchment was as thick as Muggle cardstock with a fine border, fancy golden script spelling out Tracey's personal invitation to join.

"My father has always been very vocal about his support of the Ministry," she said with a disdainful sniff. "I'm sure you noticed his opinions were prominent amongst those in the article announcing Umbridge as High Inquisitor?" The others nodded – of course they'd noticed. Tracey was one of their close friends, after all.

"Those are the kids she's recruiting – ones whose parents openly support her or the Ministry," Tracey said. "I think she figures if the parents are for it, the kids are too – too bad for her that she hasn't bothered to check."

"Taking her down from within – I like it," Blaise said, giving his girlfriend an approving look. Tracey smirked.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked. "I'd hate for you to get caught…" Tracey raised her eyebrows at him.

"Getting caught is for Gryffindors, Potter," she said imperiously, sticking her nose in the air and causing Draco and Blaise to snicker. She dropped the haughty act and smiled then, adding, "Don't worry about me – I'll be fine."

* * *

><p>By the end of the week, Tracey was an official member of the Inquisitorial Squad, a tiny badge in the shape of the letter 'I' pinned to her robes just above the Slytherin crest. Hermione wasted no time in demanding that Tracey hand over the badge the instant she walked into the Room of Requirement for that night's DA meeting.<p>

"I'll give it back in a second," Hermione said impatiently, waving her wand in intricate swirls over the little silver badge. All her diagnostic tests came back negative, but she didn't trust herself to know all the important ones, and so she pointed her wand once more at the badge and said, _"Geminio"._ Seconds later, she held two badges in her hand instead of one.

"I duplicated it," she said almost unnecessarily as she handed the copy to Tracey. "I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to have put a tracking spell on them or something…" She then ran from the room, and she was gone for nearly fifteen minutes before she finally returned empty-handed.

"It's in a niche on that ugly old vase outside the boys' loo on the sixth floor," she informed them as she sat down on her cushion. "Just in case, of course."

That night, they worked on Stunning spells, breaking into pairs and taking it in turns to practice the spell on each other. Hermione was paired with Ron, who seemed more than reluctant to cast the spell on her. After the fourth straight Stunner shot far over her head to disintegrate harmlessly against the wall, Hermione snapped, "Oh, _honestly,"_ and had Ron flat on his back in a Full-Body Bind before he could so much as blink. Draco caught her eye from across the room and gave her a 'what's going on?' look, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly, telling him without words that she'd handle this one on her own.

"Ron, this is getting a little ridiculous, don't you think?" Hermione said quietly as she sat next to him and reversed her spell. Ron sat up, groaning as he massaged the parts of himself that had collided hardest with the floor when he fell.

"I can't do it," he said, sounding almost defeated. "I can't hex you, it just feels…I dunno, _wrong."_

"Yes, you can, Ron," Hermione said firmly. "You can, and you must."

"Must?" Ron repeated. "Why?"

"Because it's that much harder to curse your friends than it is your enemies," Hermione said. "If you can't jinx everyone in this room without hesitation, how can you say you'll be ready when it's a Death Eater on the other end?"

"But it won't be," Ron protested, "because Death Eaters deserve it. You…don't." His ears were red and he was deliberately staring at the floor, his long arms wrapped around his knees.

"Ron, look at me," Hermione said softly. At first, he shook his head firmly, but with a little more coaxing on her part, he finally relented.

"It's sweet that you care – it really is – but that's not going to help you. These exercises aren't just about improving your spells, they're about developing trust. It takes a huge amount of trust to just let someone hex you like that, especially if we're specifically saying not to block anything. The person being hexed has to trust that their partner is doing the right thing, and the person doing the hexing has to trust that their partner is going to be alright. If you're constantly worried about everyone around you, it could get you into a lot of trouble."

"It makes sense when you say it, but that sense goes away as soon as I try to do it," Ron said. "It's part of why I can't understand how you and Draco can so calmly hex each other six ways to Sunday." Hermione chose to ignore the touch of bitterness with which he said Draco's name and smiled slightly.

"We've had a lot of practice, and a lot of time to build up that trust. When he sends a curse my way, I trust that I'll be able to do something about it, and if I can't, I know that it won't hurt me beyond a few cuts or bruises. We use inanimate targets to both test and practice anything that might be harmful."

"But what about the knife?" Ron pressed. "You can't tell me you would've just gotten scratched had that knife hit its mark!"

"No, I wouldn't have," Hermione agreed, understanding that he was still fixated on that particular detail, "but I wasn't unprepared either." She pulled her own blade from its sheath and held it out so Ron could see.

"I told you before that Draco isn't the only one who has one of these," she said. "Harry and I have them too, and we've been practicing with them all summer – that was definitely not the first time Draco had thrown his at me, nor will it be the last. I can knock an oncoming weapon out of the way with this knife or my wand in equal measure, and I can assure you that I know just as many ways to incapacitate someone with this as I do with my magic." Hermione sheathed her knife then and stared right into Ron's eyes.

"Like I said before – it all comes down to trust. If you can't trust those on your own side, you're dead before you've even started. Now, are you ready to put aside whatever you think of me and trust me?" Ron met her gaze for a long moment before he nodded and leapt to his feet, shouting _"Stupefy!"_ before he could give himself a chance to back out again. The two Gryffindors were so close together that the force of the spell sent Hermione flying a good distance away before she crashed to the floor. Ron's worry came back in an instant as he dashed to her side and performed the counter curse.

"Damn it, Hermione, I'm so sorry, are you alright?" He opened his mouth to apologize again but was cut off by a wand in his gut and a shouted incantation, his tall form blasted across the room in much the same way as he'd just done to Hermione. Dazed, he looked up, only to see Hermione herself standing over him, a smirk on her face and her wand pointed at his chest.

"You were saying?" she snorted, and that was all Ron needed for the final barrier to break, their hearty duel continuing in earnest for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

><p>The routine of classes, homework, Quidditch practice, and DA meetings continued, and October crept into November with very little fanfare, Harry positively marveling at the fact that he'd had an event-free Halloween for once. Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad continued to be a thorn in everyone's side, especially as the Squad was given the power to dock house points and was taking advantage of that ability left and right, and the fifth-years finally had inspected lessons. Flitwick's inspection had hardly caused any disruption at all, and they had to stifle their laughter at the scathing tones both Snape and McGonagall employed towards Umbridge, but some of the other inspections weren't quite so satisfying. Harry informed them all one day after dinner that the Divination inspection had been nothing short of disastrous, with Umbridge going so far as to demand that Professor Trelawney make a prediction for her, and they'd fought back angry tears when Umbridge had made Hagrid look like some sort of animalistic brute during Care of Magical Creatures. Knowing that teachers who failed inspection were subject to probation andor termination, they were all on edge regarding the gamekeeper's fate.

The tense atmosphere lightened up a bit when Slytherin played Ravenclaw on the second Saturday in November. Both teams fielded strong lineups, and those who turned up to watch were treated to a thrilling match full of fancy moves, high-paced action, numerous goals, and an exciting battle for the Snitch that culminated in Slytherin's narrow victory. Draco, who was now unquestionably Slytherin's top Chaser, took credit for a large percentage of his team's points, his blond hair flashing in the weak November sun as he raced his trusty Nimbus around the pitch.

While Draco was ecstatic over the win, Cho Chang was equally as upset about her loss. Ravenclaw's captain had given her a thorough scolding once the match was over, and Cho was still all over the place at the following Monday's DA meeting, her spell work suffering severely as a result. When she'd nearly put someone in the hospital wing for the third time in twenty minutes, Harry pulled her aside, gesturing for the others to continue working.

"Cho, what's going on?" he asked once they'd seated themselves against the wall by the door. Cho sighed and stared at the floor, her face red with embarrassment.

"I can't really explain it, Harry," she said. "This term's just been rough, that's all."

"Well, take a breather for a few, yeah?" Harry suggested. "You nearly took Neville's head off with that last jinx – I can tell you're not yourself."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Cho said. "I'll just rest for a minute." Harry stood and started to head back to the group.

"Harry?" He turned back to look at the Ravenclaw girl.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Thanks." Cho offered him a tentative smile, and he shrugged and nodded, not quite sure what he'd done to warrant the sentiment. He stepped back and surveyed the room – the DA members were spread out and hard at work on the Impediment jinx, and he grinned to himself when he saw Neville successfully stop Luna in her tracks. Neville's wand work – and his confidence – had improved exponentially since he'd joined the DA, and Harry was thrilled that he'd had a part in helping his friend grow so much.

His thoughts returned to the dark-haired Seeker sitting on the floor, and he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Harry had a feeling that Cho was upset about far more than just Ravenclaw's loss – although he could understand her frustration, he knew that a single Hogwarts Quidditch game generally wasn't enough to throw anyone into such a funk for so long. He'd seen her arguing more than once with Marietta Edgecombe, the curly-haired Ravenclaw she'd brought with her to the first DA meeting, and of course there was the fact that she'd been Cedric Diggory's long-term girlfriend before he'd died, a fact that severely clashed with her current behavior. Harry didn't consider himself exceptionally well-versed in the ways of women, but he'd spent enough time with Hermione and Ginny to pick up on some things, and he hadn't missed the longing looks Cho occasionally shot his way. He was almost positive that Cho fancied him – or at the very least, was lusting after him – and he wanted nothing to do with it. Cedric hadn't even been dead six months – if Cho had really cared about him, there was no way she would've gotten over his death so quickly, and Harry absolutely did not want to be a rebound of any sort. The hard part was figuring out how to tell her that without blatantly throwing it in her face, and Harry hadn't quite gotten that far yet. With a quick glance at the clock, he pulled himself out of his jumbled thoughts to end the meeting and sent everyone off to their common rooms, complimenting their hard work as they left.

* * *

><p>On the last Monday in November, Harry received a charmed parchment message from Sirius – the note was far messier than usual and seemed to have been scribbled in a hurry:<p>

_Has the post come in yet?_

_No,_ Harry replied back, wondering why his godfather was in such a rush to ask about the mail. _Why?_

_Just…be prepared,_ Sirius wrote. _Today's _Prophet _might come as a bit of a shock, especially to Draco._

Harry mutely slid his parchment over so Hermione could read it. Her eyes immediately flicked over to the blond seated halfway down the Slytherin table, then up to the ceiling as if searching for the post owls.

"What's he talking about?" she asked quietly. Harry merely shrugged.

"Dunno. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

The post seemed to take an exceptionally long time to arrive that morning, even though it really was no later than usual. Hermione quickly paid the delivery owl and hastened to unroll the newspaper. They didn't have to look far to find the source of Sirius' caution, as it was scrawled across the front page in giant, attention-grabbing font:

_LUCIUS MALFOY FOUND DEAD._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank snow day #2 for this chapter! So...what do we make of that one? Yikes - fifth year is really messing with them, isn't it? I'd love to know what you think, so please drop me a line!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Thanks for following/favoriting/reviewing/reading, & enjoy! :)**


	11. The Will of Lucius Malfoy

"Padfoot wasn't kidding when he said to expect a shock," Harry commented as he stared at the headline. Beneath the bold words was a picture of a haughty-looking wizard they assumed was Lucius Malfoy – even the grayscale couldn't hide the fact that he was very blond, and he sneered up at them with cold eyes and a disdainful expression.

"Morning."

Harry and Hermione jerked their heads up to see Ginny drop onto the bench across from them, looking upset.

"What's the matter, Gin?" Harry asked.

"Oh…Dean and I broke up last night," Ginny said, fiddling with the edge of the nearest breakfast platter.

"Oh, dear – I'm sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. "What happened? I thought you two were getting along rather well…" Ginny sighed.

"We were, it's just…I dunno how to explain it," she said. "I guess…the spark just kind of died, you know? We were spending some time together last night, and it just sort of hit us that the connection was gone. I…well, we both agreed that we still liked each other – as friends, I mean – so I guess that's good, but it was still kind of…I can't even describe it." She scooped several of the sausages from the platter onto her plate and began rolling one around with her fork.

"At least you're still friends," Hermione said, doing her best to console the redhead. While it sounded like it was an amiable breakup on both ends, Dean had still been Ginny's first boyfriend – it had to hurt at least a little. She also couldn't help but notice that Harry had been strangely quiet since Ginny had told them what was wrong.

_"Interesting," _she thought. _"I think Draco might be right…"_

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione snapped out of her musings at Ginny's exclamation, and it wasn't long before she figured out what had caused the younger girl's outburst – Ginny was gaping open-mouthed at the newspaper, the glaring headline unmistakable even from her upside-down vantage point.

"Well, I feel like a right arse now," she said as she snatched the paper and turned it around for a proper look. "Complaining about a breakup when my friend's dad just died…" She studied the photo closely and shuddered just a little – she'd never met Lucius Malfoy, of course, but she'd heard plenty of stories from her father about the Death Eaters during the height of their power, and she knew that the Malfoys had been in the thick of it all, what with their home being one of the Dark Lord's headquarters and all. No, she'd never met him, but Ginny thought it was safe to say that he was far from pleasant.

"What does the article say, Gin?" Harry asked. "The paper had only just arrived when you came down…"

"Oh…sorry," Ginny said hastily. She tore her eyes away from the photograph and quickly scanned the text below.

"Hmm…nothing, really," she said. "Says he was found really early this morning just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, he was forty-one years old, cause of death has yet to be determined…"

"Is that really all it says?" Harry quickly took the paper back, sure there was something Ginny had missed, but she was right – the article held almost no information at all.

"I guess there were so eager to release the news of his death that they didn't bother with the details," Hermione commented. "I wonder how Draco is going to take this…"

* * *

><p>While the three Gryffindors were deep in discussion on one side of the Great Hall, Draco sat on the other side, buttering toast and wondering what the hell was going on. As soon as the post owls had arrived, whispers had erupted throughout the room, the highest concentration of these at the Slytherin table, and dozens of people had abandoned their breakfast and were blatantly staring at him. It didn't take Draco long to notice that almost all of them clutched copies of the <em>Daily Prophet.<em> He'd also received a very cryptic note:

_Mr. Black,_

_Please come to my office today at ten o'clock – I enjoy Fizzing Whizbees. You are excused from all lessons today._

_Yours very sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Resolving to find out what had everyone so unsettled, Draco looked around until his eyes fell on the first person he saw who wasn't buried in the front page.

"Hey…hey Montague!" The Slytherin Quidditch captain looked up at the blond.

"What?"

"Toss me your newspaper, would you?" Montague hadn't even unrolled his copy – to be honest, Draco wasn't entirely sure why the older boy even had it delivered, as he didn't think he'd ever seen Montague reading it before – and so he merely shrugged before doing as Draco asked. Draco quickly pulled off the twine holding the newspaper shut and unrolled it, and he immediately knew what had everyone staring.

"Oh."

A glance to his left showed that the vast majority of his housemates were still staring, albeit discreetly in most cases, probably attempting to discern his reaction to the news. Draco turned his attention to the paper once more and focused on it. The article was woefully lacking in any sort of useful information, but the picture was unmistakable – Draco hadn't seen the man in over a decade, and Lucius hadn't been around much anyway, but the few encounters Draco recalled were memorable enough that he'd never forget that face. Engrained in particular was the afternoon Lucius had destroyed one of the rooms in the Manor in a fit of uncontrolled magic, nearly killing Draco in the process – it was the same memory that had surfaced the first time Draco had encountered a Dementor, and he remembered all too clearly both the pain of whatever had knocked him out and the sound of his mother's terrified screams. Quickly realizing that he wasn't going to learn anything important from the newspaper, Draco rolled it up again and tossed it back to his captain.

"Thanks."

He then returned to his breakfast, taking a large bite of toast and rolling his eyes at the blatant staring still going on.

_"So Lucius Malfoy is dead – so what? Are they expecting me to burst into tears? Get angry, scream and throw things? He hasn't been my father for eleven years – although to be honest, I don't think he _ever_ really was my father…"_

Draco's musings were interrupted by his charmed parchment heating up, and he shifted a little in his seat to pull it from his pocket:

_You alright?_

_Yes – why wouldn't I be?_

There was a long pause with no response, and Draco sighed and continued:

_I've seen the _Prophet,_ Padfoot – I know what happened, and I really am fine. A little curious, maybe, but I'm not upset. Lucius never was a good father – although I suppose I do have him to thank for ending up with you and Mum._

Draco couldn't tell, of course, but Sirius choked up a little as he recalled how scared the blond boy had been when he'd first come to live with them. While Narcissa had been cold and distant, her actions at their meeting in Dumbledore's office all those years ago had made it abundantly clear just where Draco's fears had come from.

_I know, I know – I just wanted to make sure. I'll be at Hogwarts sometime this week – you need to meet with the executor of Lucius' will, and since you're still underage, you need a parent or guardian with you. Dumbledore will let you know when._

_He already did – it's today at ten._

_Oh – guess I'll be seeing you soon then._

The bell rang then to signal the end of breakfast, and Draco stashed away his charmed parchment, wondering what he was going to do until the meeting. After tossing around several options, he finally decided on finishing his reading for Transfiguration, popped the last bit of his toast in his mouth, and headed off to the library without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>Draco had occasionally thought that time slowed down on purpose just to annoy him, especially in some of his more tedious classes, but that feeling was nothing compared to how the minute hand crawled its way towards ten o'clock. He'd tried his best to finish his Transfiguration reading like he'd intended, but it was bloody difficult to concentrate when the library's other occupants, mostly older students with free periods, had abandoned their own work in favor of shooting him curious glances from across the room. By the time it was late enough for him to warrant leaving, Draco was within seconds of hexing everyone in the vicinity, silence in the library be damned. With one last look at both the clock on the wall and his own watch, Draco swept his things back into his bag and made for the headmaster's office.<p>

"Fizzing Whizbees," he told the gargoyle. The statue nodded and sprang aside to grant him access to the spiral staircase, and Draco knocked on the door at the top, pushing it open when Dumbledore bade him enter. The headmaster sat at his desk, the tips of his fingers touched together in a pose of deep thought, and two visitors' chairs were occupied by Sirius and a man Draco presumed to be the executor.

"Ah, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said. "Do come in and make yourself comfortable." He gestured to a third chair Draco hadn't noticed before, and the Slytherin boy quickly crossed to it. Sirius reached over and squeezed Draco's shoulder in support, and Draco gave him a small but grateful smile in return.

"Your mum told me to tell you hi," he said quietly. "She would've come as well, but she was the first to admit she doesn't know a thing about Wizarding wills, and she suspected you wouldn't want to make a fuss over it."

"She knows me well, doesn't she," Draco said amusedly.

"Draco, allow me to introduce Albert Henderson," Dumbledore said. The executor nodded. He was an older man with dark hair and eyes, the latter of which were hidden behind stylish glasses, and his tan-colored robes were impeccably tailored. He stood and offered Draco his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black."

"Likewise, Mr. Henderson," Draco replied, remembering his manners and firmly shaking the proffered hand. "And this is Sirius Black, my mother's cousin and my legal guardian."

"Yes, we were just talking about that when you arrived," Mr. Henderson said, taking his seat once more. "Now, I suggest we get down to business, as we have rather a lot to discuss." He picked up his briefcase from where it had been sitting next to his chair and removed several thick files, which he placed on Dumbledore's desk.

"This first file contains the will itself," he said, opening it to show them. Draco could clearly see the words _Last Will and Testament_ marching smartly across the first page in fancy script.

"As you can see, this document was completed, signed, dated, and stamped by the appropriate authorities in late July 1984," Henderson began. "It has been on file with my office ever since, and no subsequent legal alterations have been made."

"July 1984," Sirius mused, looking thoughtful. "So this will was written before Lucius went mad."

"Yes," Henderson agreed.

"What do you mean, no subsequent _legal_ alterations?" Draco asked curiously, purposely stressing the word.

"The Wizarding world takes the 'of sound mind' aspect of a will very seriously," Henderson explained. "Your aunt's cursing of your father made headlines for days afterwards, and once it was clear that he no longer met this particular requirement, all subsequent attempts at altering his will became null and void."

"How did you know that he 'no longer met the requirement', as you put it?" Sirius asked.

"St. Mungo's, of course. Narcissa, desperate to know just what had happened to her husband, took him there for examination within hours of her sister's actions. Documentation of the Healers' findings is all in here." Henderson tapped another file. "It's probably a good thing that she did so, otherwise we'd be having a far more difficult time of things – Lucius drafted no less than twenty-seven other wills in the time between his cursing and his death, in which he left his estate to everything from his hunting hounds to his wife's prize rosebushes."

"I see your point," said Draco, who was trying not to laugh at the mental image of flowers inheriting anything. Henderson pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded.

"All peculiarities aside, this _is_ the only legally appropriate document, and as executor, it is my duty to ensure that the requests of the deceased are carried out. Draco, as the lone remaining Malfoy, is the sole beneficiary of everything under that name, including all properties, monetary assets, et cetera."

"Ah…about the monetary assets," Sirius said suddenly, looking as if he'd just remembered something. "The day Narcissa gave Draco to us, she told us that she'd had Lucius sign everything related to the vaults just the day before – and that was in August, at least a week _after_ her sister had cursed him. Are we not going to hit some sort of a snag there?"

"No," Henderson said. "The Gringotts goblins operate a little differently in that regard – as long as they can verify the signature as authentic, they don't really care much how it got there. Their reasoning seems to be that a person has to be at least somewhat lucid to create a verifiable signature, but I suppose that explanation doesn't really do it justice. Suffice it to say that the Gringotts goblins have ways of detecting authenticity that we wizards don't. You have the vault key?"

"Yes. We've yet to enter the main vault, obviously, but I suppose that can be done now."

"What do you mean?" Draco cut in, looking confused. "Of course we've been in my vault…haven't we?"

"No – well, sort of," Sirius explained. "Your vault is one of the oldest and largest in Gringotts and has a separate room, which contains just a small portion of the Malfoy fortune. That money is what Narcissa set aside for you, specifically for Lily and I to raise you and get you through school – I suspect that even though she was entrusting us with your care, she still wanted to make sure that the majority of the money went to you and you alone."

"Wait…you're saying that's only _some_ of it?" Draco asked in shock. The portion of the vault he'd seen before contained a veritable mountain of gold – just exactly how rich _was_ he?

"That is indeed correct," Henderson said. "The provisions of the will dictate that you, Draco, take over everything upon the death of your parents or the date of your seventeenth birthday, whichever comes first, and the Gringotts documents agree with this statement. As you are underage, you will need to appoint someone to oversee the finances until you turn seventeen, but other than that, you should now have completely unrestricted access to the entirety of your family vault." He opened yet another folder and passed a piece of parchment to Draco, who saw that it was a bank statement of some sort. The young wizard had to fight to keep his jaw off the floor as he gaped at the numbers.

"Are…are you sure that's an accurate total?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone even.

"Quite. You can see the verification seal of Gringotts in the top left corner." Draco whistled lowly. 'Filthy rich' didn't even begin to cover it.

"Unless you have any other questions related to the will or its contents, I just have a few things for you to sign, and then you'll be free to go," Henderson said.

"Nothing I can think of at the moment," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Draco?" Draco shook his head.

"No…I don't think so." He was still staring at the Gringotts statement as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Excellent. If you do find that you have questions in the future, you can always contact me at this address." Henderson pulled out a business card and slid it across the desk. "Now, if you'll just sign here, here, and here…"

* * *

><p>Draco was still deep in thought as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room twenty minutes later. After Mr. Henderson had left, the two Blacks had had a quick chat about the Manor – Draco didn't really have much of a desire to go there, but Sirius had pointed out that the wards would need to be reset to recognize the new master of the house. The wards surrounding the property were ancient and very powerful, but they would be much easier to unravel without that crucial link. Wanting just to get the trip over with, Draco had suggested that they stop by over the Christmas holidays, which were just a few weeks away, and Sirius had agreed that that was the most convenient option. Sirius had reluctantly departed then, stating important Order business, and Draco was now alone and facing an entire day of nothing. Having no desire to repeat his earlier experiences in the library, he'd decided to kill the remaining time until lunch in his room, and he was satisfied that he at least managed to finish his reading in peace this time around.<p>

"Where have you been?" a familiar female voice demanded as he headed up to lunch. Harry and Hermione were standing at the base of the stairs leading up to the entrance hall, both of them looking extremely worried.

"Dumbledore's office," Draco replied, falling into step between them. "I've been excused from classes for the day, and I had a meeting with the executor of Lucius' will."

"They already have the will?" Harry asked, sounding shocked. "He hasn't even been…you know…for twenty-four hours yet!"

"Harry, you don't have to beat around the bush," Draco said flatly. "You can say that he's dead. Trust me, there's no love lost there." Harry looked doubtful, but he backed down when Draco gave him his best '_I'm-totally-serious-so-don't-be-an-idiot'_ look.

"The will's been on file since 1984," he clarified. "Signed, sealed, delivered, what have you, it was there."

"Forget about the will," Hermione said quickly. "Are you _sure_ you're alright? You might not have the best memories of him, but he was still your father, after all."

"Lotte, I'm fine," Draco promised, his tone softening a bit. "It was definitely a shock, but not much more than that. I've got all I could ever need in a family right here." He nudged both Gryffindors in the sides and smiled knowingly.

"Huh, maybe Drake needs to inherit a fortune more often," Harry joked. "He gets a lot nicer when he does."

"Oh, shut up," Draco retorted, elbowing his brother much harder this time.

"And there's the Draco we all know and love…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: 4 snow days in a week - & more snow possibly on the way? I can't handle this. Not the most exciting chapter in the world, but those happen sometimes. The next chapter will more than make up for it, I think...**

**Thank you for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Keep them coming, please!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	12. Ambush

It was interesting, Draco mused as he made his way to Charms class a few weeks later, how a single person's death could so thoroughly change the dynamics of an entire house. Prior to Lucius' death, Draco had largely gone ignored by his housemates – sure, there were a handful who firmly believed that Draco was a traitor to his own name for willingly hanging out with the likes of Saint Potter and his pet Mudblood, but most of the other Slytherins didn't find it an issue worth pressing. They'd been intrigued when Draco had first come to Hogwarts and the rumors about his lineage had begun, and they'd been quietly impressed by the blond's thorough verbal thrashing of Nott and Parkinson a year later, but that was about it. Now, though, their collective attitude had shifted almost completely, and Draco was not only noticed, but almost revered. To the ambitious Snakes, wealth meant power, and with Draco's newly inherited fortune…well, that was a _lot_ of power. Overnight, Draco had incontestably taken over the top spot in Slytherin's hierarchy – he only had to step into the common room for the best chair by the fire to be vacated immediately, the prime seat at the Slytherin table was his for the taking, and nobody dared question his words or his actions. Even Theodore Nott didn't dare speak out against the blond anymore, though he made his displeasure known through dirty looks whenever he could. For his part, Draco found all the sudden attention to be rather annoying, but he knew that telling his housemates to bugger off was pointless – Slytherin House had had such a system for centuries, and the best he could do was accept his newfound status graciously while otherwise acting like nothing had changed.

The only truly unwanted side effect of the whole thing was Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to have forgiven Draco all his 'transgressions' and was now following him everywhere like an attention-starved puppy. It was no secret that Pansy had fancied him since mid-second year, and he suspected she still did, at least to a degree – Draco knew for a fact that she'd only initially pursued Nott last year in an attempt to make him jealous, and he was pretty sure that even now she didn't hold any degree of real affection for the dark-haired boy. Ever since a subsequent article declaring Draco the heir had been published, Pansy had become his shadow, glued to his side as they traveled from class to class, and though she tried to look surreptitious about it, it was obvious what she was doing – she was under the impression that the spot of the next 'Mrs. Malfoy' (Black, whatever) was open and hers for the taking. She talked to him at every opportunity and scowled deeply at Blaise and Tracey at every meal – the other two Slytherins, of course, had claimed the seats on either side of Draco's for themselves, and Pansy took it as a personal insult.

Pansy's sudden refusal to leave him alone drove Draco up the wall, and he was forced to come up with increasingly creative excuses to ditch her so that he could get where he needed to be. The hardest, of course, was getting to the Room of Requirement – as far as Pansy was concerned, Slytherins never had a reason to be anywhere near the seventh floor unless they had patrols, and the patrol schedule was common knowledge amongst the prefects. As Pansy was also a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, Draco had to be doubly careful – feelings for him or not, the girl wouldn't hesitate to rat out his friends if she found out what they were up to.

As it so happened, the opportunity to get rid of his newfound shadow presented itself that very night. The last DA meeting of the term was to start at eight, and Harry had promised something fun in light of the upcoming holidays. Draco had just left the Slytherin common room and was almost to the staircase leading up to the entrance hall when light footsteps caught his attention. He turned and bit back an irritated sigh when he saw Pansy running up to him.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"Where are you going?" she replied, deliberately not answering his question.

"Library," he said shortly. It was a believable excuse, and the best one he could come up with that was upstairs from their current location.

"Perfect," Pansy said, falling in step beside him. "I told Macmillan I'd meet him there to start our-"

"Pansy, you don't have rounds until ten tonight," Draco interrupted, stopping abruptly and turning to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. "We both know it would take even Crabbe and Goyle less than two hours to get to the library from here, so cut the bullshit and tell me what you want."

For a moment, Pansy's expression faltered, but it was quickly replaced by hardened resolve, and she threw herself into his arms without a second thought. Draco yelped, both in shock and pain as his back collided hard with the stone wall of the corridor, and her lips were mere inches away when he finally managed to regain his footing and throw her off. Pansy tumbled to the floor, and she couldn't contain her surprised gasp when Draco drew his wand and pointed it straight at her chest.

"I don't like to hex women if I can help it, Parkinson, but you are trying my patience," he said, barely containing his anger. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Pansy's dark eyes were wide as she stared up at him.

"I…I thought that…"

"That just because I've inherited the Malfoy fortune, I'd suddenly become the perfect little pureblood?" Draco finished. He lowered his wand and ran his free hand over his face with a sigh. Obnoxious as she was, he wasn't really being fair to her – after all, she had no way of knowing the extent of his relationship with Hermione.

"Look," he said, his tone softening a little, "the person you want me to be doesn't exist, because he was raised in circumstances that never happened."

"But if you just-"

_"No,_ Pansy. I can't – I _won't_ be that person. I'm sorry." He offered a hand to help her up, but Pansy swatted it away, her confused look replaced by one of indignant anger.

"Fine," she huffed. "I told you that you would regret hanging out with blood traitors and Mudbloods, I told you that you would regret not embracing who you were meant to be. Push me aside all you want, _Draco,_ but you _will_ regret doing that too – just you wait." Without another word, she turned around and flounced back towards the common room, her nose in the air. Once she was out of sight, Draco leaned his head back against the wall and sighed again – _what_ was he supposed to do with her?

Draco was still annoyed when he finally reached the Room of Requirement fifteen minutes later, and Hermione noticed almost immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling him aside so they could talk privately. Not everyone had arrived yet, but she suspected that he didn't want to discuss whatever was bothering him with the whole group.

"Parkinson," he said. "She tried to feed me an excuse about rounds so she could follow me just now, and-"

"She tried to kiss you, didn't she?" Hermione interrupted. Draco stared at her.

"How-"

"She's had a thing for you for more than two years now – oh, don't look at me like that, of course I noticed – and you recently became one of the single richest wizards in all of Britain. To her, you recently became one of the single richest _single_ wizards in all of Britain, and you tick every last box on the 'perfect pureblooded husband' checklist – I'm just surprised she didn't try it sooner."

"How are you not mad at me for this?" Draco asked. "I couldn't _not_ tell you, but I thought you'd be furious."

"Dragon, unless she actually _did_ kiss you, and unless you responded, the only person I can be mad at is her," Hermione said, quietly but firmly. "I know the truth, and that's what matters – I'm not going to let Parkinson of all people ruin my Christmas." She gestured around the room, and Draco noticed for the first time that it was decked out in garlands, ribbons, ornaments, and other festive accoutrements. There was even a small Christmas tree in the far corner, and though it was nothing like the twelve massive evergreens adorning the Great Hall, it still twinkled merrily and added something special to the décor.

"Dobby," she said, smiling fondly. "He did it as a surprise for us." Draco couldn't help but smile too at the mention of the odd little elf, and he brushed one of Hermione's wayward curls aside with his knuckles before giving her a chaste but lingering kiss, hoping it conveyed how grateful he was that she understood the situation.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips. He felt her smile again.

"I love you too. Now let's forget about Parkinson and have fun tonight, shall we?"

* * *

><p>As it was their last meeting, Harry decided to devote only half of it to actual learning, leaving the other half for fun. They'd been working on Shield Charms, and he put them through twenty minutes of hard practice, hoping to see marked improvement before everyone went home for the holidays. As it turned out, Harry saw far more than just marked improvement, and he was so pleased with everyone's progress that he turned the last ten minutes of instruction time into a free-for-all. This turned out to be far more fun than he'd expected – lights of all colors shot through the room as people shrieked, darting this way and that as they dodged their friends' hexes. Several people made use of their newly perfected Shield Charms, and Ginny hit three different people with her signature Bat-Bogey Hex before Padma Patil finally brought her down with a well-placed Stunner. By the time the instructional block was over, everyone was sweaty and sore, but they all agreed they'd never had such fun, and Harry agreed to let them have other similar duels in the future.<p>

"In the meantime, though, it's time to celebrate," he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and a long table filled with snacks materialized at the back of the room.

"Dobby brought them up ages ago, but he helped me hide them so that they wouldn't get ruined during the duel," he explained. "Happy Christmas, everyone – dig in!"

Due to the impending curfew, the party that followed was shorter than anyone wanted it to be, but it was still great fun. Fred and George persuaded the Room to give them a wireless so they could dance, and the food, as it always was when house-elves were involved, was absolutely delicious. House and age barriers broke as the DA members mingled in small groups or joined in the Christmas jigs on the dance floor, and it was with genuine regret that Harry finally called attention to the time.

"We should probably get going if we don't want to get in trouble," he said. "Happy Christmas again, and keep an eye on your coins for our first meeting in January!" Hermione had finally gotten them around their communication issue when she'd come across the Protean Charm in the course of her reading – with it, she was able to charm a set of fake Galleons, the master of which would communicate the intended message to all the rest. The idea was very similar to that of the charmed parchment they owned, and provided nobody lost or accidentally spent their coins, the results would prove far more reliable than playing games of telephone every time they scheduled a meeting.

Harry intended to personally wish each of the others a happy Christmas as they left and therefore reached the door first, unaware that he triggered one last spell by doing so. Hermione, however, noticed right away, and she grabbed Draco's sleeve to make him stop.

"Look up," she whispered. Draco's eyes followed her gaze to the sprig of mistletoe that had just appeared above the doorway, and he smirked. His satisfied expression grew even more when he noticed who stepped forward first, the spell immediately ensnaring the petite redhead.

"Did you have anything to do with that?" he asked Hermione quietly. Hermione raised her eyebrows and put on a look of innocence.

"Not at all," she replied, though she smiled.

"Hey," Ginny protested then. "How come I can't move?"

"Can't move?" Harry repeated. "I don't-"

"Ooooh, look up!" one of the Weasley twins said, much louder than Hermione had done. Harry turned scarlet when he caught sight of the plant hanging over his head, and Ginny bit her lip, looking thoughtful.

"Best get it over with," Luna advised, her voice as serene as always. "Nargles live in mistletoe, and they get upset if you try to get out of it without kissing."

"They _can't_ get out of this one without kissing," Susan pointed out. "That's magical mistletoe."

"What _is_ it with everyone and snogging my _sister?"_ Ron groaned, but he was almost immediately drowned out by his brothers, who started up a chant:

"Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Others joined in until almost everyone had taken up the chant, and Ginny gave Harry a long look.

"Oh, what the hell," she said with a grin, and without another word, she grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him close. Harry was shocked for only a moment before he snapped out of it, wrapping his arms around her waist and responding enthusiastically. They were both bright red when they broke apart, but neither seemed to regret it, nor did they make any move to let go even though the spell had long since released them. Their friends were cheering, clapping, and wolf whistling, but they hardly noticed.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Ginny said softly. Harry grinned and brushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead.

"Happy Christmas, Gin."

* * *

><p>Two days later, the Hogwarts Express departed for London. As usual, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ginny, Blaise, Tracey, Neville, and Susan had all crammed themselves into one compartment, and the boisterous atmosphere was infectious as they shared excited plans for the holiday. Harry himself was in particularly high spirits – after a decidedly un-Gryffindor bout of shyness that had lasted almost a full twenty-four hours, he'd finally gotten up the nerve to ask Ginny out, and he was still in shock that she'd said yes. The witch in question was currently sitting sideways on the bench with her back against the window, her legs tented over Harry's lap and her fingers loosely entwined with his, and though she was heavily engaged in conversation with Susan, she'd occasionally send a glance his way or squeeze his hand affectionately.<p>

"Anyone for a game of Snap?" Neville asked, pulling out his cards. Draco quickly agreed, and he and Susan changed spots so that the two boys could rest the cards on the bench between them. Harry and Blaise broke out the chess set while Hermione and Tracey discussed the DA, Hermione running her fingers through Crookshanks' thick fur as he snoozed beside her. When the trolley arrived, everyone made sure to stock up, and they swapped chocolate frog cards and braved their way through a box of Bertie Bott's Beans as the afternoon wore on. The atmosphere in their compartment grew steadily calmer as the journey continued, and by the time they pulled into Kings Cross, they were more than ready for supper and bed.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Tracey said as they pulled the last of their things from the luggage racks.

"You too!" the others chorused. They joined the queue in the corridor and were soon stepping off the train. The platform was packed with families, but Harry spotted Sirius standing by a pillar near the far end.

"Over there," he said, pointing. Hermione and Draco caught sight of Padfoot as well and made to move that way.

Just then, several distinct _pops _sounded, and a scream cut through the chatter as the bright light of a spell shattered the scene. Instantly, everyone was on high alert, flinging spells at the newcomers as best they could, but the attackers had the element of surprise on their side, and they all seemed to be incredibly gifted witches and wizards. Harry ducked as an angry red spell soared over his head and smashed into the windows of the train car he'd just left, shards of glass raining down and forcing him to separate from Draco and Hermione. He jumped into the fray and began firing off spells, thanking his lucky stars that the DA had worked so hard on their Shield Charms the other day and hoping that they might make a difference. People were screaming, crying, and shouting for others all over the platform, and Harry felt his heart lurch when he tripped over a small girl in a Ravenclaw uniform. She was sobbing and cradling her left arm, which was torn open from shoulder to elbow and bleeding steadily.

"Hey, it'll be alright," he tried to assure her as he attempted to study her wound. She couldn't have been more than twelve, he thought. "What's your name?"

"S-Sarah," she squeaked, brushing away her tears with her good hand as best she could. "W-w-what's h-h-happening?"

"Never mind that," Harry soothed, using a spell to siphon off some of the blood and another to close the wound as best he could – he really wasn't familiar with any decent healing spells, but it would do until a Healer could look at her. Another spell flew over their heads and smashed into the train, and he curled himself around Sarah to protect her from flying debris.

"I want you to go find someplace safe to hide, get some help if you can," he said. "Do you think you can do that?" Sarah stared, her wide eyes still very wet, but she nodded. She took off into the crowd at the first opportunity, and Harry took a moment to pray for her safety before rejoining the fight.

Harry tossed spell after spell at the attackers, wondering who they were and where they had come from. Bits of debris, both from the train and the platform itself, littered the area, and the ground was slick with blood. The sight made Harry feel sick, and he fervently hoped that nobody was seriously hurt. One of the cars further down the train was on fire, the smoke choking the air as the flames ate away at wood and metal, and he didn't recognize most of the curses being used, but the attackers' numbers were dwindling – Harry supposed that the sheer number of people who'd been waiting on the platform had something to do with it. He managed to Stun two of his opponents and was charging after a third when a rogue spell hit him in the back, causing him to tumble to the ground, where he hit his head hard against the platform.

"Ugh," he groaned as he attempted to sit up. Thankfully, he still had his wand, but his vision was already swimming, and he knew he didn't have long.

"HARRY! SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE!"

Harry almost threw up then and there – he knew that voice. He forced himself to turn towards the sound and saw Draco and Ginny some fifteen yards away. Harry couldn't see his brother's face, but he could tell that Ginny was crying, and they were crouched beside a bloody, mangled body – a body topped by a very familiar head of curly brown hair…

The pounding in his head overcame him then, and Harry knew no more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, hot damn...& I can't even blame all the snow, since I've had this chapter planned for far longer than that. Yikes.**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my wonderful youngest sister Julia - she's 15 today! Love you Squirt. :)**

**K, you all know the drill - I want to know what you think! JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	13. Christmas Day

Harry awoke to a throbbing pain in his temple. Without the aid of his glasses, his vision was terrible to begin with, but now he could barely make out indistinct shapes through the spots behind his eyes.

"Ugh…"

"Harry?"

"Mum?"

"I'm here, love, I'm here." Her voice was like a soothing balm against the pain, but the pounding was still relentless.

"Hurts…head hurts…"

"Shh. Here, sweetheart – drink this, it'll help you feel better." He felt her press something cool and smooth into his hands – a cup, perhaps? – and she helped him guide the rim to his lips. The liquid within burned unpleasantly as it slid down his throat, but the taste – cherries and bubblegum – could've been far worse, and his headache subsided almost instantly as his mother's worried face swam into view. Taking the empty cup and setting it to the side, Lily handed her son his glasses and smiled softly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. Harry didn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to take a look around. The room he was in was comparable in size to his room at home, but the atmosphere was the exact opposite. Whereas his room had Quidditch posters on the walls, books scattered haphazardly across the shelves and his desk, and his favorite thick blue quilt on his bed, this room held not even a hint of anything personal, with plain white sheets on the twin bed and a nondescript nightstand and dresser set.

"Where…where am I?" Harry finally asked.

"St. Mungo's," Lily replied with a frown. "Do you not remember what happened?"

Harry mimicked her expression, his forehead creasing as he thought. When he'd first woken up, his thoughts had been a jumbled mess, but now…now things were starting to come back to him. The sound of shattering glass…the whistle of deadly spells racing over his head…a small girl in a Ravenclaw uniform…the smell of blood…the broken form of…

"Hermione!" Harry gasped.

"What?"

"Hermione," he repeated, sounding panicked. "What happened to Hermione? I remember Ginny screaming, and there was so much blood, but then I…"

"Harry, shh," Lily said again, reaching over to clasp his hand. "Hermione's alright." Harry's anxious expression dissipated somewhat and he looked at her, blinking slowly.

"She's…"

"She's ok – well, she's stable, at least."

"What-"

"Let me finish, love," Lily admonished him gently. "I promise I will tell you about Hermione, but I need to start from the beginning – you need to know what happened." Harry swallowed hard and nodded.

"Alright."

"The people who attacked Kings Cross – they were Death Eaters," Lily began. She reached for something on the nightstand, which turned out to be a recent edition of the _Daily Prophet._ Harry gasped when he saw the headline: _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN._

"But…how…"

"We're not sure – nobody's ever broken out of Azkaban before, and now almost a dozen of Voldemort's most loyal supporters are at large once more. These people have countless murders, tortures, and other unspeakable crimes to their names, and they managed to escape the same morning you all left for home. Somehow, they knew that the Hogwarts Express was arriving that day, and so they struck where they knew it would hit the hardest."

"Hang on…why was there no warning?" Harry asked. "You said they broke out in the morning, but that was hours before we got back to London…"

"Oh, trust me, the Wizarding community is up in arms over that," Lily said darkly. "It took a while for the guards to even realize that they were gone, and then Fudge made the mistake of thinking the evening edition of the _Prophet_ would be a good enough warning – try explaining _that_ to the people who died."

"The people who died?" Harry repeated, his voice catching on the last word. "How…how many?"

"Twenty-two," Lily said sadly. "Thirteen were students, four were first-years – most of them were trapped in a compartment in the train car that caught fire – by the time anyone realized there were still people in that car, it was too late. A further twenty people sustained serious injuries – most of them are still here in St. Mungo's – and nobody has any idea how many had minor injuries. I think the Healers have had reports of fifty-six so far, but I'm not sure."

Harry merely stared at her for a long moment, completely in shock. Nearly a hundred people…twenty-two dead…thirteen students who would never see their families again…it was hard to take, and he couldn't help the choked sob that escaped.

"Oh, sweetie," Lily said softly, leaning forward and gathering him in her arms, where he folded himself into her like he'd done when he was small. "I know, I know." She rubbed his back in as comforting a manner as she could while he sniffled into her shoulder – you could do all you wanted to prepare yourself for war, but seeing the consequences in person for the first time was always a terrible shock, and there was no way to soften that blow.

"What happened to me?" Harry asked once his tears had subsided. "And Maya? And where are Draco and Ginny?"

"You hit your head pretty hard on the platform, from what I understand," Lily said. "You had a severe concussion, and your jaw was split open – you would've needed stitches at a Muggle hospital." She paused to smooth his hair away from his face and wipe away his tears. "You were one of the minor injuries, actually – the only reason you've been here as long as you have is because the Healers wanted to keep an eye on you – they take head trauma just as seriously here as they do in the Muggle world."

"And Maya?" Harry pressed. He couldn't erase the image of his best friend's broken form from his mind, and he knew he couldn't rest until he knew what had happened to her.

"They aren't quite sure what happened to Hermione," Lily admitted. "She was hit with a truly nasty curse, a personal invention, I believe – Antonin Dolohov is known for that sort of thing. It…well, it tore her open and completely messed with her internal organs. She's very lucky to be alive."

"Is she awake?" Harry questioned. "When can I see her?"

"She's not – she hasn't woken in the three days you've been here," Lily began, but Harry cut her off.

"We've been here for _three days?"_

"Yes, love," Lily sighed, "and Healers have been working on Hermione almost nonstop since then – they only just finished operating on her last night. Your brother has been an absolute bear – he refused to do anything but pace the hallway outside her room until she was stable, and he hasn't left her side since." Harry nodded in understanding, hardly able to even imagine what Draco had gone through in the last forty-eight hours.

"As for Ginny, she's fine – the Weasleys have been popping in and out at intervals, but as none of them are still hurt, they don't really have much of a reason to stay – the Healers have been requesting that visitors be kept to a minimum so that they can do what they need to do without interruption."

"Can I see her – Hermione?" Harry asked. "Please?" He sounded almost scared.

"As soon as you're discharged, I'll take you to her room," Lily promised. "Your Healer should be stopping by within the hour."

Harry's Healer did indeed check on him approximately half an hour later, and he was soon cleared to leave, several dosages of pain-relieving potion safely stowed in Lily's purse. They made their way to the spell damage wing on the fourth floor, where they found Sirius sitting on a hard plastic chair outside a room halfway down the corridor.

"Harry," he breathed, jumping from the chair to crush his godson to his chest in a bear hug. "Thank Merlin…"

"Padfoot, I'm fine," Harry replied, though he pressed a little further into the hug. He glanced over Sirius' shoulder at the plain wood of the door behind them.

"Is that…"

"Hermione's room, yes," Sirius said. "She's got her own room, since she had to be watched so closely, so we'll have some privacy."

"Wait…where are her parents?"

"They just went upstairs to get something to eat," Sirius said. "They've been here since Friday night, just like the rest of us. And as I'm sure your mum's already told you, Draco's in here." He tapped his knuckles on the frame, presumably to give Draco some warning, and opened the door, allowing Harry to step inside. The lighting was dim, but not so dark that he couldn't see, and unoccupied save for the girl in the bed and the blond at her side. Draco's head snapped up when he heard the creak of the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his family.

"Hey, Harry," he said quietly, gesturing to the empty seat on the other side of Hermione's bed with his free hand. His other was firmly wrapped around Hermione's, clinging to her fingers like a lifeline. "I'm glad you're alright."

"You too," Harry said, taking the offered chair. Although to be honest, that was a bit of a stretch – Draco looked like hell. His hair was a mess, like he'd run his fingers through it half a dozen times too many, large bags under his bloodshot eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, and his clothes were wrinkled. Harry suspected that the only reason Draco had even changed out of the clothes he'd been wearing on the train was that the Healers would've seen them as a health hazard.

"How is she?" Harry asked. Draco shrugged.

"Ok, I guess," he said. "The Healers said she should be waking up soon…"

As if on cue, Hermione's hand twitched, and she groaned as she slowly opened her eyes for the first time since the attack. Everyone in the room was instantly on alert.

"Draco?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "Harry?"

"We're here," Harry soothed, immediately taking the hand Draco wasn't holding. Draco didn't – or perhaps couldn't – say anything, just sat and drank in her familiar brown eyes as if he'd never seen them before. Sirius and Lily quietly backed out of the room, Sirius off to alert the Grangers and Lily to find Hermione's Healer, and the trio was left alone.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, her curious gaze quickly taking in her surroundings before resting on the boys once more. "Where are we?"

"We're at St. Mungo's," Draco said. "Do you remember what happened when we got to Kings Cross?"

"Yes," Hermione replied quietly. "We were attacked…oh, Merlin, _what happened?"_

"Shh." Draco soothed Hermione's tense knuckles with his thumb, but she didn't relax, instead looking even more troubled.

"Would somebody please tell me what is going on?" Hermione demanded.

"We will," Harry promised, "but you need to see your Healer first. You were hurt pretty badly, and we don't really know what happened to you."

The door opened just then, admitting Lily and a blonde woman they didn't recognize, the latter clad in the signature lime green robes of a Healer.

"Ah, Miss Granger – I'm very glad to see you awake," the Healer said. "My name is Healer Barkley."

"Hello," Hermione said politely. Healer Barkley looked at Harry and Draco.

"I know it would be pointless to tell you two to leave, but I am going to have to ask you to step aside for a minute so I can examine your friend," she said gently. After a moment's hesitation and a gentle but firm nod from Hermione, the boys dragged their chairs away from her bedside to sit against the wall opposite the bed. Healer Barkley conjured a privacy screen and began asking Hermione questions – how she felt, did it hurt to breathe, how long had she been awake, and others. Twenty minutes later, the screen disappeared, Hermione now dressed in fresh clothes and sitting cross-legged on the bed. She looked very weak.

"It's probably best if I explain things all at once, since I'm assuming everyone wants to know," Healer Barkley said. "Your parents also need to understand your medicine routine so that they can help you once you leave our care." The door opened for a final time then, and a cry broke the calm as Hermione's parents rushed into the room and threw their arms around their daughter.

"Hermione!" her mother cried, pulling her close and stroking her hair. "Oh, my baby…"

"Good to see you awake, pumpkin," her father said, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. "We missed you."

"How long have I been here?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"You've been here for three days, darling – we all have," her mother said. Hermione gasped and began to cry.

"Oh, no – I've ruined everyone's Christmas!"

"No, baby – today's Christmas Day, sweetheart. And you most certainly did not ruin Christmas!"

"But I got hurt!" Hermione protested, tears running down her face.

"Lotte, stop." Draco's tone was soft but firm, and he stepped up to the far side of the bed and squeezed Hermione's hand. When she just stared at her feet and continued to cry, he cupped her face in his hands and gently tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"The only ones who are to blame are the Death Eaters who attacked the train," he said quietly. "We might not be celebrating Christmas at home, but at least we're celebrating it together." Hermione sniffed once, then swallowed and nodded shakily. After wiping away the last of her tears with his thumbs, Draco leaned forward and touched his lips to hers, for once not caring that they were in a room full of people. When he drew back, he intertwined their fingers and sat back on the bed beside her. The adults pulled up chairs on the other side of the bed while Harry sat by Hermione's feet, and they all waited patiently for Healer Barkley to speak.

"Miss Granger, I've worked at St. Mungo's for close to fifteen years now, and I've only seen a handful of cases as severe as yours," the blonde woman began. "You're very lucky your friends brought you here when they did – you might not have made it otherwise." Hermione bit her lip and nodded.

"What exactly happened to her?" Hermione's father asked. "Do you know?"

"Now that she's been through surgery and awoken successfully, yes," Healer Barkley replied. "The curse used on her has no name – it is a personal invention of the caster, you see – and this was the first time we'd seen it, but the intent was apparent almost immediately. It creates a large gash in the victim's torso while simultaneously attacking the inner organs – if the failing organs don't kill you, the loss of blood definitely will."

"Failing organs?" Hermione's mother asked faintly.

"Hermione's spleen had already ruptured by the time she was brought in, and her appendix burst not long after that," Healer Barkley explained. "Both were removed during her surgery. The curse attacked her kidneys next, but we managed to contain and remove it before there was any lasting damage."

"And…and you said something about a gash?" Harry managed.

"There is a-" Healer Barkley began, but Hermione cut her off.

"I might as well show you," she said shakily. "You're probably all going to see it anyway." Before anyone could object, she took a deep breath and pulled off her shirt. Hermione's mother whimpered and several of the others gasped as they took in the extent of the damage – a thick, ropy scar began just above Hermione's right breast, briefly hidden by her bra before reappearing to snake its way across her stomach to her left hip. She coughed, swallowed heavily, and ran her fingers across a few inches of the bumpy mark before pulling her shirt back on, her trembling hands seeking those of the boys.

"With time and a little medicinal help, we can greatly reduce the scarring," Healer Barkley promised. "You're very lucky the cut went the way it did – the gash itself wasn't very deep, but there still would've been a very high risk of heart damage had the gash slanted the other way." Draco and Harry tightened their holds on Hermione's hands at that sobering detail.

"Hermione will need to stay here for the next several days for monitoring – as I said earlier, she is the first victim of this particular curse that we've ever treated, and we need to make sure there are no further complications or relapses. You are all welcome to visit as much as you like, but I must ask that you clear any food items with me before giving them to her – she is taking thirteen different potions to counteract the effects of the spell and to deal with the scar tissue, and the last thing we need is anything reacting negatively with the medications." Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement – after everything, having to clear food with the Healer was hardly an issue.

"Once she is released, I will send a list of the medications and their doses home with her, as well as a list of foods and activities to avoid during recovery," Healer Barkley continued. "We expect no further problems should you stick to that regimen." She paused to note something on her clipboard, then said, "Unless you have any further questions, I have a few other patients I should see to this afternoon. If you ever find you need anything, Miss Granger, just press the buzzer by your bed."

"Thank you, Healer Barkley," Hermione said sincerely. "Thank you for everything." The Healer's expression softened as she regarded her determined young patient, surrounded by people who clearly loved her very much.

"You're very welcome, Hermione," she said. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

"Oh, Hermione," her mother breathed once Healer Barkley had gone. She rose from her chair and hugged her daughter once more, her husband protectively wrapping his arms around both of them. "I love you so, so, much, and I'm so glad you're ok."

"I love you too, Mum," Hermione whispered back. She gave each of her parents another hug and a reassuring kiss on the cheek, and she gestured for Lily and Sirius to come forward as well.

"We'll save presents for a little later," Lily said quietly as she embraced Hermione. "We're just happy you're alright."

"I am a little tired," Hermione admitted.

"We'll leave you to rest a bit, then," her mother said. "We'll be upstairs in the tea room if you need us." The adults all moved towards the door, whispering well wishes to Hermione as they went. Harry and Draco made to stand as well, but Hermione tightened her grip on their hands and held them back.

"Stay," she said quietly. "Please."

Harry looked to his mother in silent question, and Lily smiled and nodded.

"We'll come back to check on you in a little while," she said. "Get some rest." She shut the door behind her, and Hermione gestured for the boys to kick off their shoes and join her under the covers.

When Lily returned some two hours later, it was to find the three teenagers sound asleep, Hermione sandwiched between Harry and Draco in a massive tangle of limbs on the bed. Taking care not to wake them, Lily pulled the sheets up to cover them more comfortably before straightening their discarded shoes. Though the circumstances were far from ideal and though they must've been squished in the narrow hospital bed, Lily couldn't help but smile – it was the most peaceful she'd seen them in a long time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There - hope I didn't leave you all hanging for too long! JKR doesn't say much about Dolohov's curse in OotP besides that it did a lot of damage & would've been worse if he'd said the incantation aloud...so I created the effects. The important thing is that Hermione's alright!**

**Just a quick note - I'm leaving for vacation on Friday night & will be gone until the following Saturday (we're going to LONDON! The Harry Potter nerd in me is super excited) - this means no update until the following week. Maybe leave me your thoughts in the meantime? :D**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	14. Umbridge Strikes Again

The rest of the Christmas holidays were rather quiet for the Potter-Black and Granger households. Hermione was finally able to come home at the end of the week, and the adults threw together a little party to celebrate – Lily invited the Weasleys, who'd been anxiously awaiting news of Hermione's status and were thrilled that she'd been released, and Hermione's mother made a cake for the occasion. Hermione had to stifle a giggle at the awed look on Mr. Weasley's face when he arrived – none of the Weasleys had ever been inside an entirely Muggle house before, and their patriarch looked like a child at Christmas as he examined such ordinary objects as the toaster and VCR.

"I thought your parents worked with teeth," Ginny commented as she helped herself to a slice of cake. "Doesn't this sort of…contradict that, somehow?" She lifted a forkful of cake to her lips, her eyelids closing in pleasure as the dessert dissolved on her tongue.

"Mum has a huge sweet tooth – it's her dirty little secret," Hermione replied with a smile. "She doesn't bake often, but when she does…"

"I need to commission her for my next birthday cake," Ginny decided. She then quickly looked around to make sure her own mother was out of earshot, and Hermione laughed.

"Your mum's in the kitchen swapping recipes with mine," she said. "I think you're safe."

"It's great to see you up and about, Herms," Ginny said then, smiling slightly at her friend. "You don't know how awful it was to see you like that, and I'm so glad you're ok." She set her plate aside and enveloped the older girl in a hug.

"I'm doing much better, Gin, really," Hermione reassured her. "Some of the potions I'm taking are absolutely awful, but it's much better than the alternative – I'm alive, so I really can't complain. And my scar is already looking so much better." She lifted the hem of her shirt to expose her stomach. The scar was no longer so thick and angry looking – in fact, the raised texture had almost disappeared completely, and the color was slowly fading. Healer Barkley had assured her that by the time her medicine regimen was done, the scar would be nothing more than a flat, thin white line, hardly noticeable at all. Magic really was amazing sometimes.

"And it goes how far?" Ginny asked, having not seen the scar while Hermione was at St. Mungo's.

"To here." Hermione traced the entire length of the scar over her sweater, something she'd been doing a lot lately, and Ginny whistled.

"You really were lucky," she said quietly. She then shook her head and said, "Enough of this – you're home, you're alright, and that's what counts. I say we get back to celebrating, yeah?"

* * *

><p>After the party, Harry, Draco, and Hermione occupied themselves with gift exchanges and mountains of homework. As their professors were constantly reminding them, their O.W.L.s were even closer than ever, and their workloads just kept increasing as a result. As they were slogging their way through a particularly tedious essay for History of Magic one evening, Sirius stuck his head into the room and asked, "Can I come in?"<p>

"Please," Harry replied, massaging his temples and getting ink all over them in the process. "If I have to think about goblin uprisings for much longer, I think I'll scream."

"Agreed," said Draco, tossing his quill unceremoniously onto his book without a second thought. Hermione had rather uncharacteristically already abandoned her essay and was doodling idly on a spare scrap of parchment, little swirls and flowers surrounding spur-of-the-moment thoughts.

"I know we already did our gift exchange, but these just arrived," Sirius said. He opened his hand, and in his palm sat three bronze Knuts.

"Harry told me about your charmed coins," he explained, more to Hermione than anyone else. "I liked the idea so much that I had them made for everyone in the Order – I used Knuts so you won't get them confused with your D.A. Galleons, and they're small enough that you can wear them on your necklaces without them getting too bulky." As the trio looked closer, they noticed a small hole drilled into each coin, a hole that would perfectly accommodate their necklaces.

"Thanks, Padfoot," Harry said as he accepted his coin. "Who has the master?"

"I do, for now," Sirius replied, handing Draco and Hermione their coins as well. The three teenagers immediately slipped the coins onto their necklaces. "We haven't had an Order meeting since I had them done, so obviously there hasn't been a chance to give it to anyone else."

"You say you 'had them done', Sirius," Hermione commented. "Did you not make them?"

"Nope – Lily did," Sirius said. "She always was far better at Charms than me – or any of us, for that matter."

"Did I just hear you admit that I'm better at you than something?" Lily sing-songed, entering the room with a gleeful expression on her face.

"Lil, I know I'm a decent liar, but there's a difference between lying and saying something that's just plain stupid," Sirius said, eliciting laughter from the trio. Lily smirked.

"Fair point."

* * *

><p>On New Year's Day, everyone received rather sobering letters from Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Express had been so badly damaged during the Death Eater attack that there was no chance of it leaving Kings Cross station in time for the start of term, and as such, students would have to arrange alternate transportation back to the castle. Madam Rosmerta, the bartender at the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade, had generously offered her Floo for specific windows of time should anyone wish to use it, specially authorized Portkeys were available, and the Knight Bus was offering special discounts to Hogwarts students as well.<p>

"Even though it's sad, it's probably just as well that you can't take the train," Lily commented as she penned the letter requesting their Portkeys. "From what I understand, the Portkeys are set to depart over the course of several days, and the specifics of each one will only be available to those using it – it'll be a lot harder for the Death Eaters to attempt anything if they can't pinpoint when people will be arriving."

The rest of the Hogwarts letter was even more solemn than the news about the train, as it spoke of a memorial service planned for the students killed during the attack. While they'd had some time to stomach what had happened, it was still hard to take, and it was with heavy hearts that Harry, Draco, and Hermione packed up their trunks and prepared to return to school.

"We'll see you soon," Hermione's mother said as she embraced each of them in turn. As they were Muggles, the Grangers had to stay behind when the Portkeys departed.

"Harry, Draco, make sure this one keeps up with her medicine," Hermione's father added. "She needs to keep taking it until her supply's all gone."

"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know I won't forget."

"Just making sure my girl is safe," he replied, pulling her in for a hug. "Love you, pumpkin."

"Love you too, Dad. I'll see you soon."

* * *

><p>The memorial service took place during dinner the first night of term. Everyone was quiet as Dumbledore read the names of those they'd lost, and a sobering chill ran through the Great Hall as they slowly realized the implications of those names. The dead weren't solely Gryffindors, or relatives of Order members, but rather an even mix from all four houses and all backgrounds. The four dead Slytherins were an exceptional shock to three-quarters of the room's occupants, as those names completely contradicted many students' beliefs that all Slytherins were on the side of the Dark. Harry mourned all of them equally, though he did spare a small smile when he saw Sarah, the little Ravenclaw girl he'd helped, healed and healthy where she sat with her friends.<p>

Classes resumed the following morning, and the usual academic routine helped a lot in terms of healing. However, there was one class that still set everyone on edge no matter what, and it was during this particular class that Harry finally snapped.

"Please open your books to the next chapter and begin reading," Umbridge said in her sickly-sweet voice. "There will be no need to talk." As usual, the class stifled their groans as they pulled out their copies of _Magical Theory_ and braced themselves for another period of torturous monotony. Parvati Patil, however, seemed to have other ideas, as she'd abandoned her book and was staring at Umbridge with her hand in the air. Umbridge pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows pointedly at Parvati as if to tell her to get to work, but the Indian witch ignored her and kept her hand up. Finally, Umbridge sighed.

"What is it, Miss Patil?"

"Excuse me, Professor, but I was wondering if you might consider letting us practice some spells now, given what happened over the holidays."

All the other Gryffindors turned in their seats to stare at Parvati, who was still looking at Umbridge with a determined expression on her pretty face. Her question certainly wasn't unfounded – Padma, Parvati's twin, had been hurt during the attack and had been lucky not to have lost the use of her right arm to a nasty curse.

"Miss Patil, I believe I made it _quite_ clear in September that there would be no need for wand work in my class," Umbridge said. "Why you think that might have changed-"

"But Professor, there was a Death Eater attack just a few weeks ago!" Parvati protested, rising to her feet. "How can you say we don't need to know how to defend ourselves?"

"Sit _down,_ Miss Patil," Umbridge said firmly. "Yes, there was a tragic accident-"

"A _tragic accident?"_ Harry interrupted, jumping to his feet as well. "You cannot _possibly_ be calling this an _accident!"_ It was bad enough that she'd said something similar about Cedric's death, but now this? He'd absolutely had it with this woman!

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "Sit down, she's not worth it…"

"You're right, Maya, she's not," Harry replied coldly, "but that doesn't mean I have to let her get away with it either." He turned his gaze back to Umbridge. "Nearly a hundred people were hurt that day. My best friend nearly died. Twenty-two people _did_ die, including thirteen of _your own students,_ and you _dare_ say it was an accident? When in the hell is the Ministry going to wake up and acknowledge that something's wrong?" Harry was using every ounce of restraint he possessed not to hex Umbridge into next year – as it was, he was dangerously close to shouting by the end of his tirade.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her voice deathly calm. "I do believe I warned you once about saying such nasty things in my class. I will see you for detention every evening for the next two weeks. Anyone who wishes to protest will join him without question."

The Gryffindors were silent for a long moment as they gaped at their professor. Finally, Harry said, "Fine. I'm leaving." Without another word, he picked up his bag, which he hadn't even opened, and strode towards the classroom door.

"My office, tonight at eight o'clock, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said darkly. Harry's only response was a cold glare before he slammed the door shut behind him.

The next two weeks were some of the most miserable of Harry's Hogwarts career. Thanks to his detentions, he missed almost every Quidditch practice, and Angelina benched him for the game against Hufflepuff as a result. Hermione played brilliantly, but the victory was hardly a consolation. On top of that, Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside and given him a stern lecture about his behavior, and his mother and Sirius had reprimanded him as well, no doubt having heard about it from his Head of House. The detentions themselves were the worst – the first time around, Harry had only had one night of detention, but this time, he was at the blood quill's mercy for much longer, and the message didn't fade so easily after so many repetitions. By the time his two weeks were up, 'I must not tell lies' shone white on the back of his hand, as clearly visible as any other scar would be.

The Tuesday night after his detentions ended, Harry stood in the Room of Requirement, eager to start the first D.A. meeting of the new term. He planned to start the evening with a review, and then he was hoping that Draco might be able to start them on the Patronus Charm. It was ridiculously difficult magic, but Harry viewed it as a challenge rather than an impossibility.

"Alright, everyone," he said once the last members had arrived and taken their seats. "I thought we'd do a quick review first, make sure everyone's on the same page, and then-"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, her voice deceptively calm. _"What_ is on the back of your hand?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Apologies for the wait on this one - as I said in my last note, I was out of the country for a week (England was AMAZING, BTW - & _NOTHING_ can describe the feeling of seeing Hogwarts in person!), & then I had some trouble with this chapter. Fillers are necessary, but really hard to write. Hopefully you like it anyway - as you can see, we're building up to some interesting stuff.**

**Thank you to all of you for following/favoriting/reviewing/reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	15. Plots and Patronuses

Harry's first thought was _"Oh, crap." _He'd been so excited about starting the D.A. again that he'd completely forgotten about the scar.

"Nothing," he said dismissively, sticking his hand in his pocket as nonchalantly as he could. "Just a scratch." Hermione narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing him one bit.

"You've always been a terrible liar," she said bluntly, "but I'll give you a chance to correct yourself – what is on your hand?"

"Maya, it's-"

"So help me, Harry James Potter, if you say 'nothing' again I will hex you into the middle of next week! Now show me your damn hand!"

Harry sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. He glanced at Draco and Ginny, but their expressions were just as resolute as Hermione's, and with another sigh, he gave up.

"Alright, fine." He freed his hand from his pocket and held it out to Hermione, who grabbed it and immediately began examining the back of it. She hissed through her teeth when she realized just what she was seeing.

"Harry…this is absolutely not 'just a scratch' – who did this to you? And how?" She ran her index finger over each of the letters before fixing him with a hard stare.

"Erm…mind explaining what's got your knickers in a twist, Hermione?" George asked. Hermione glared at his choice of expression but didn't answer, instead thrusting Harry's fist forward so that everyone could see the message engraved into his skin. Blaise inhaled sharply, Ginny made a sound like an angry cat, and a number of others burst forth with declarations of their own.

"What the hell…"

"Who did that?"

"_'I must not tell lies'?"_

"What's going on?"

"Alright, everyone shut up and let him speak," Susan said. With a flick of her wand, she sent their cushions flying into a neat circle.

"Sit." The determined look on the normally friendly Hufflepuff's face left everyone scrambling to do as she said. Harry felt the indignant gazes of his friends as he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"It started back in-" he began, but he was interrupted by the door.

"Sorry I'm late," Lee Jordan said as he stepped into the room and looked around for an empty cushion. "I just got out of detention – what'd I miss?"

"That," Ginny replied, pointing to Harry's hand. It was then that she noticed that one of Lee's own hands was wrapped in a towel, which was stained red in numerous places. Before Lee could act otherwise, Ginny grabbed his wrist and pulled the towel away, exposing a fist covered in blood.

"Ouch!" he cried. "What the hell was that for?" Ginny ignored his outburst and used a spell to siphon off the excess blood, her teeth clenching when she could properly see Lee's hand. As Lee's cuts were still bleeding, she couldn't make out the exact message, but it was crystal clear that the marks on his skin were letters.

"Godric, Rowena, and Salazar," she muttered, quickly cleaning the cloth before wrapping Lee's hand again. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"You said you came from detention, Lee?" Draco asked, having picked up on the seemingly insignificant detail. "What exactly were you doing that's got you bleeding all over the place?"

"He was writing lines," Harry said then. He'd given up on trying to keep the truth from his friends – they'd find out eventually.

"Writing lines," Ginny deadpanned, staring at Harry like he was crazy.

"Yes," he snapped. "Writing lines. It's from a blood quill, alright? It's Umbridge's."

"I should've known," Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowed to slits. "That evil, evil woman!"

"Are we going to let her get away with this?" Lisa Turpin asked.

"But what are we supposed to do?" Hannah Abbott countered. "She's got the backing of the entire Ministry, and everyone knows Harry hates her! It wouldn't do any good!"

"Hang on," Terry Boot interrupted. "Anthony, didn't Michael come back to the room bleeding a few times right before the holidays?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah, he did," Anthony said, looking pensive. "He wrote it off as a Herbology project gone wrong and went to bed, but I'm almost positive he'd had detention that night – and not with Sprout."

"So there could potentially be others in a similar situation?" Hermione pressed, seemingly interested in what the two Ravenclaws had to say. Terry shrugged.

"Yeah, I s'pose so."

"Well then, we have to find them," Hermione said resolutely. When several of the others gave her questioning looks, she rolled her eyes and continued, "Umbridge might have the Ministry behind her, but even the Ministry can't ignore something like this. The use of blood quills has been illegal for nearly two hundred years, and they've been forbidden at Hogwarts for even longer – _Hogwarts, A History_ devotes nearly ten pages to the subject. If we can prove she's done something illegal, Fudge will be forced to act."

"And how are we going to do that?" Cho Chang wanted to know. "Do you really think the Wizengamot would take the word of a bunch of kids over that of one of their own? Umbridge has already proven herself a fantastic liar."

"Strength in numbers," Hermione replied instantly. "We already know of at least two definite victims of the quill, possibly three if Anthony and Terry's suspicions about Michael are right. Who's to say there aren't more? Our group alone represents all four houses and years four through seven – that should be a good enough start."

"What do we need to do?" Susan asked.

"Ask around. If you see someone with an odd mark on their hand and feel comfortable doing so, ask them about it; if not, maybe talk to their friends to see if they know anything. Umbridge hasn't exactly been conservative about handing out detentions, so it's very possible that far more people have these scars than we know."

"And after that?" Lee prodded.

"We get the word out," Hermione said simply. "Obviously everyone affected should write letters, to both the Ministry and their parents – although I honestly don't know why you haven't done that already," she added with a glare in Harry's direction. Harry had the decency to look sheepish – his mother would be absolutely furious when she found out, even more so when she learned that he'd kept this from her for quite a while.

"The letters will be a good start, but we need something more, something that will really get their attention. A picture is worth a thousand words, or so the Muggles say – Gin, how well do you know Colin Creevey?"

"Well enough," Ginny said with a grin, quickly picking up on her friend's intentions. "I have shared most of my classes with him for almost four years, after all."

"Perfect. Luna, your father runs a magazine, no?"

"Yes, Daddy's the editor of _The Quibbler,"_ Luna confirmed with a serene nod. Several people covered up snorts at the mention of the odd publication, but the blonde Ravenclaw ignored them.

"What's the circulation like?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh, it's nothing like the _Daily Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly,"_ Luna said. "Daddy does it more for the satisfaction than the money…but it's still available in most Wizarding villages, plus Diagon Alley, of course."

"That's all we need," Hermione assured her. "If we can make this work, it'll be the fastest selling issue that magazine's ever had."

"Well, Daddy's been waiting for quite some time for a truly riveting piece about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but I think I can convince him to push that back an issue if we get this done in time."

"Erm…right. Thanks," Hermione said awkwardly. She and Luna got along well enough, but the logic-minded Gryffindor still had a hard time swallowing some of the younger girl's eccentricities. She cleared her throat and brushed a few loose hairs back from her forehead.

"I think we should end the meeting for tonight," she said. "We really need to put all of our efforts into scoping things out this week." A number of the D.A. members grumbled but eventually nodded, all of them realizing just how important their latest undertaking was.

"Keep your coins handy, and spread the word about this project to anyone you can trust," Harry said. "I think Hermione's right – if we play our cards right, even Fudge himself can't ignore us."

* * *

><p>Thanks to an unexpected surge in workloads and a nasty bout of flu that swept through the castle a week later, it was more than two weeks before the D.A. was able to meet again. As they gathered in the Room of Requirement, however, it quickly became apparent that those two weeks had been very productive – when all was said and done, they'd compiled a list of close to fifty victims of the blood quill. Granted, fifty was a fairly small number given Hogwarts' population of several hundred, but it was still a decent list, more than enough to enact the next stage of their plan. Colin Creevey, who was attending his very first D.A. meeting that night by personal invitation from Ginny, jumped at the chance to take photos of as many of the victims' scars as he could – as Hermione reminded him, "The more we have, the bigger the statement".<p>

"What about the article itself, Maya?" Harry questioned.

"I've got it all sorted," Hermione replied. "I've set up a meeting with a seasoned reporter for the next Hogsmeade trip, and I've arranged for a private room at the Three Broomsticks for the interview. Anyone is welcome to come share their stories – the more, the better, so spread the word. We'll be there from noon until no later than three – it's Valentine's Day, so I don't want to keep anyone too long – and they should ask Madam Rosmerta for the room number."

"Who's the reporter?" George asked. At this, Hermione merely smiled.

"I'm keeping that a surprise," she said mischievously. "Don't worry, she'll make sure the word gets out." The other members of the D.A. immediately began peppering her with questions, but Hermione refused to answer.

"Just wait and see," she said. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, we were going to do something rather special tonight?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at Harry, who nodded in confirmation.

"Mhmm. I thought we'd try a different sort of defensive charm tonight, take a break from the dueling-type stuff."

"What are we doing instead?" Neville asked. Harry grinned.

"The Patronus Charm."

A few people merely looked confused, but gasps and squeals came from those who'd heard of the charm before.

"Really?" Susan asked. "Can you produce one, then?"

"I can't," Harry said. "Not yet, anyway – but Draco can." All eyes turned to the blond Slytherin.

"I want to start by saying that the Patronus Charm is extremely difficult magic – beyond N.E.W.T. level, even, so don't get discouraged if you can't do it right off," Draco warned. "It took me months before I got mine right." He withdrew his wand, but before he could do anything else, there was a knock at the door. The D.A. was on their feet immediately, wands in hand. There were only a handful of people missing, and they shouldn't have been done with patrols or practice yet…and even if they were, they knew how to get in without knocking. Finally, Harry summoned his courage and opened the door, gasping when he saw who stood behind it.

"Greengrass?" he asked, sounding puzzled. "Pucey? What are you doing here?"

"Can we come in, please?" Daphne's soft voice replied. "There's a pair of Inquisitorial Squad members not too far from here…"

"But-"

"Let them in, Harry," Tracey interrupted. "It's alright – I invited them."

"You…_what?"_

"I invited them," Tracey repeated. She gestured for Daphne and Adrian to enter and summoned two extra cushions from the stack in the corner. "Draco was supposed to tell you, but I guess he forgot."

"Sorry, Trace," Draco said. "In my defense, I hadn't seen Harry today except in Potions, and you know there's no way for us to talk in that class." Tracey just rolled her eyes.

"Or you were just a typical male and forgot," she quipped. Draco stuck his tongue out at her in response.

"Real mature, Drake."

"Can we get back to the matter at hand, here?" Harry asked. "Not to be rude or anything, Greengrass, but why would you want to come here?"

"Firstly, please call me Daphne," the Slytherin girl said. "And second…well, I want in on what you're doing. I know you've been secretly working on Defense all year, and I know that you're plotting against Umbridge."

"How did you know?" Ron asked sharply. "Who told you?"

"I did, Ron," Tracey said impatiently. "Didn't I just say I invited them? Now why don't you listen to Daphne's story before you jump to conclusions?" Ron looked abashed for a moment but kept quiet.

"My family has always been neutral in the war," Daphne began. "My parents don't necessarily like the fact that Muggle-borns are allowed to attend Hogwarts, practice magic, and the like, but they certainly don't condone torture, and they've always encouraged my sister and me to form our own opinions on things, something very few pureblooded girls are allowed to do. I admit I'm still working out my own beliefs – I'm just a teenager and the whole thing can be so convoluted sometimes – but I know that I agree with my parents about the violence aspect. Anyone who thinks such horrible acts are acceptable should be in Azkaban." There was a hard gleam in Daphne's eyes, one that made Hermione pause.

"Something happened to you, didn't it?" she asked quietly.

"Not me, no," Daphne replied just as softly. "My sister." She tensed almost imperceptibly, and Adrian wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. Encouraged by her boyfriend's presence, Daphne took a deep breath and continued, "Astoria was severely injured during the attack on Kings Cross – a spell completely destroyed her left leg, so much so that even the Healers couldn't save it. She now wears a prosthetic from the knee down." Gasps flew around the circle as many of the girls clapped their hands to their mouths.

"That's terrible," Ginny said. "I'm so sorry." Daphne smiled sadly.

"It's not me who needs to hear that," she said. "Stori is beautiful, yes, popular and sweet and smart, but her one true love is dance – she's been taking lessons since she was three. It's remarkable how much progress she's made in learning to walk with the prosthetic, but she can still only do so with a severe limp, and there's a very real chance she'll never dance again. She was devastated when they told her." Daphne choked back a sob and held a hand to her mouth, breathing deeply.

"I would do anything – _anything_ for my sister. She's two years younger and can drive me mental so easily, but she's also everything to me. To see that light gone from her eyes, to know that her passion's been taken from her…well, I want to do everything I can to make things right." There was a lengthy silence as the D.A. processed Daphne's tale.

"And what about you?" Harry finally asked Adrian. "What's your story?"

"I've seen firsthand what the Death Eaters do to families," the taller boy said. "My father's oldest brother was one – I remember them having a spectacular row when I was small, my uncle insisting that my father was a fool for not joining up. Less than a year later, my uncle was dead, brutally slaughtered by one of his own for failing to complete a mission satisfactorily. We've relocated twice since then, because we can't be sure my uncle didn't reveal anything personal about us, and my parents' views are much the same as the Greengrass'. Daphne and I are very lucky that we've been allowed to make our own decisions, and in light of the attack on the Express, we decided it was time to act. It was I who convinced Daphne to talk to Tracey."

"Why Tracey?" Ginny asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

"Tracey and I have always gotten along reasonably enough, and I knew she was dating Blaise and close with Draco – who, in turn, is close with you." Daphne gestured to Harry and Hermione. "What better way to go against the Dark than to seek out Harry Potter?"

"I think you've more than convinced me," Hermione said quietly. "All in favor of Daphne and Adrian joining?" Almost everyone raised their hands.

"Welcome to the D.A.," she said, tossing them each a charmed Galleon. "We're doing something a bit more light-hearted today, I hope you enjoy it."

"Thank you," Daphne said sincerely. "I'm sure whatever you have planned will be lovely."

"Draco?" Hermione nudged him gently, wordlessly prompting him to pick up where he'd left off.

"Right, then – the Patronus Charm. Like I said, it's extremely difficult stuff, but it is a bit easier to do when there aren't any Dementors around."

"What exactly is a Patronus?" Hannah asked.

"Good question," Draco replied. "It's like a guardian of sorts – mostly against Dementors, as they can't hurt one, but I can imagine it'd be nice to have one around in other situations as well."

"And there's a way to use them to send messages, although I don't know how it's done," Harry added. "My mum can do it, as can a bunch of her friends." He carefully avoided mentioning the Order, as most of the D.A. wasn't privy to the inner workings of the higher organization.

"Very true – we'll just stick to the charm for now," Draco said. "The incantation is _Expecto Patronum."_

_"Expecto Patronum,"_ the D.A. chorused.

"Exactly – except in this case, the words aren't enough. Conjuring a Patronus requires the caster to focus on a single happy memory – the stronger the memory, the stronger the charm. Like so." Draco closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, then raised his wand and said, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ The white wolf burst from his wand tip and trotted around the room to many 'ooohs' and 'aaaahs' from the assembled onlookers. When it reached Draco, the wolf sat just behind the blond, its expressive eyes surveying the room curiously.

"It stuck around this time," Hermione murmured with a smile. As if it had heard her, the wolf snuffed and flicked its tail before it bumped Draco's shoulder with its nose and vanished.

"That," Draco said, "is a corporeal Patronus – one that takes a definitive form. Usually when you start out, all you get is a silver mist, like a cloud, but since we don't have any Dementors in here, we might see more than that before we're done tonight."

"It's so pretty," Padma said admiringly.

"Why a wolf?" Susan asked.

"The form supposedly says something about the caster," Draco said with a shrug. "I'm happy with it, at any rate. Shall we get started?"

Without the presence of a Dementor, the D.A. members saw great success with the Patronus Charm. Almost everyone was able to produce at least the silvery mist Draco had described, and a number of animals frolicked around the room while their casters watched in awe. Ginny was very proud of the majestic horse that galloped around her in circles, and Luna smiled sweetly at her hare Patronus. Daphne had produced a sleek mountain cat of some sort, most likely a panther by the looks of it, and a large, fierce-looking bird flew circles around Anthony's head.

_"Expecto Patronum!" _Hermione cried. So far, she'd only managed the silver vapor, and she was getting more than a little frustrated. Another shapeless cloud burst from her wand, and she groaned.

"Lotte, I told you not to expect to get it right the first time," Draco said quietly as he approached her. He'd just come from talking to Harry and Neville – they'd both only produced clouds so far, although Harry's seemed to be taking a more definitive shape with each cast. He rested his hands on Hermione's shoulders and soothed her collarbone with his thumbs.

"I know," Hermione replied, sounding upset. "I just…I really want to know what my form is." Draco chuckled softly.

"Patience, my love – you'll get there soon enough," he said. "You're not at the top of our class for nothing." He dropped a soft kiss on Hermione's forehead even as she shoved his chest in mock exasperation.

"Give it another go." He stepped back and gestured for her to attempt the spell again. Hermione raised her wand and concentrated.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ Again, she managed only a cloud, and she had to refrain from throwing her wand across the room in disappointment.

"Again, Lotte. Don't give up – that's not like you." Hermione looked up at him, and the look in his eyes gave her the encouragement she needed.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

The animal that leapt from her wand looked remarkably like Crookshanks, except with larger ears and a tufted tail.

"It's a Kneazle!" Hermione said in wonder, smiling widely as the curious cat moved forward to inspect her.

"Trust you to have a magical animal for a Patronus," Draco said with a slight laugh. "From what I understand, that's pretty rare."

"He's so cute," Hermione cooed, reaching her fingertips towards the Kneazle's nose. The Patronus sniffed, sneezed, and promptly disappeared, and Hermione giggled before turning her attention back to Draco.

"I told you you could do it," Draco said softly as he pulled her close and gave her a squeeze. "Now can you do it again?"

"Of course I can," Hermione said confidently. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Draco echoed the spell, and the Kneazle and wolf chased each other playfully around the room, eventually running circles around Harry, who had just produced his own Patronus.

"Ha!" he said triumphantly. Then he took a closer look at his animal and asked, "What is it?"

Hermione and Draco stepped forward to examine Harry's Patronus. It somewhat resembled a weasel or an otter, but neither of those seemed to make sense. Parvati, however, was close by and spoke up immediately.

"I know what that is – it's a mongoose," she said.

"A mongoose?" Harry asked, more than a little confused. "What's a mongoose?"

"That," Parvati said, gesturing towards the Patronus. "They're not found in Britain, of course, but my parents always told us stories of India – to keep our heritage alive, you know. There was one story my father told us about a mongoose, by a Muggle called Kipling."

"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded, immediately recognizing the name. "I think I know the story you're talking about."

"Obviously we don't need to tell the whole story now, but the mongoose really does suit you, Harry," Parvati continued. "They're bold defenders of the innocent, agile, fiercely protective, and their number one enemy…"

"What's their number one enemy?" Harry asked. Parvati smirked.

"The snake."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Lots of fun stuff in this chapter! I did quite a bit of research on the meanings of animals before I chose the Patronuses - some of the canon ones I kept (Ginny, Luna) & some I obviously didn't (Hermione, Harry). If anyone's curious as to the meaning behind any of the specific animals, I'm happy to share.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Keep your thoughts coming, I love hearing (reading) them.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	16. A Promising Lead

Save for Peeves upending what appeared to be an entire barrel's worth of ink onto a group of third-year Hufflepuffs during morning break on Wednesday, January slipped into February with very little fanfare. The members of the D.A. did their best to spread the word about their Hogsmeade plans to the blood quill's victims, and by the time the trip rolled around, Hermione had a list of roughly fifteen people who wanted to share their stories, as well as a number of others who couldn't make it to the interviews but who had agreed to have their names and pictures printed.

"I'll try to stop by around two," Harry told Hermione as they made their way into the little village.

"That should be fine," Hermione said. "Like I told everyone at the meeting, we'll be there from noon until three – you can stop in any time."

"Well, I can't really come any earlier, I don't think – I have…plans before then." Harry glanced over at Ginny as he spoke, making sure she was out of earshot, and Hermione grinned.

"You treat her well, Harry Potter," she said with mock severity as she gave him a warm hug. Harry chuckled and returned the embrace.

"Only because I know my best friend will be first in line to hex me if I don't," he said cheekily, tapping her on the nose and tugging one of her loose curls. "See you in a bit, Maya."

Harry and Ginny spent the first hour or so of their day strolling leisurely through Hogsmeade, window shopping and occasionally stopping in if something caught their fancy. They stocked up on their favorite sweets at Honeydukes, both chuckling as they pointed out the poor sods who'd clearly forgotten to pick up something for their significant others and were now rushing to fix things three days later, and as they were both in need of new quills, they made sure to visit Scrivenshaft's. As it drew closer to noon, however, Harry began to grow nervous. So far, they'd treated the trip like any other casual outing, but his plans for the lunch hour were far more along the lines of a date, and he hoped Ginny would like what he'd chosen. Valentine's Day itself had already passed, but as Hogwarts students didn't get too many opportunities to get off campus for real dates, Harry had decided to do something special.

"Gin?" he asked once she'd finished chatting with some friends. "Would you…would you like to grab some lunch?"

"Sure, Harry," she replied. "Three Broomsticks? I heard some of the others from the D.A. were meeting there."

"Er…no," Harry said. "That's not quite what I meant." Ginny cocked her head to the side.

"What did you mean, then?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. Harry shuffled his feet, feeling just as nervous as he had when he'd first asked her out.

"What I meant is…well, I sort of had something planned…for just the two of us." He trailed off a bit at the end and inwardly grimaced at how ridiculous he sounded, but he relaxed when Ginny's curious look morphed into a delighted smile.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that!" she said. Then, seeing how tense he still looked, she added, "I would love to join you for lunch, Harry." She coaxed her arm through his, and Harry couldn't help but return her infectious grin as they walked down the high street.

"So where are we going?" Ginny asked, her eyes scanning the various shops. She had to admit she was curious – Harry had already ruled out the Three Broomsticks, the Hog's Head certainly wasn't the place anyone respectable took a date, and Madam Puddifoot's…well, girly girls like Lavender Brown fawned over the place, but the lace doilies and perfumed air reminded Ginny far too much of Professor Trelawney…or perhaps Umbridge. No, she definitely had trouble imagining Harry in such an establishment.

"I thought we'd try something different," Harry replied, his nervousness returning as he guided Ginny down a side street by Gambol and Jape's. "This place just opened up last month, but it's gotten pretty good reviews so far, and I thought you might like it…" He trailed off again as they stopped before a small but clean looking brick building, the restaurant's name marching across the storefront in gold letters against a deep green backdrop. A rolled-in awning suggested a patio underneath the snow that would allow for outside dining in warmer weather.

"The Dragon and the Unicorn," Ginny read. "I like the name."

"Let's hope the food is as good," Harry joked, though he was still nervous. He opened the door and gestured for Ginny to go in first, then gave the hostess his information. She nodded and directed them to a small table along the right-hand wall, then told them the specials before leaving them to peruse the menu.

"This place is cute," Ginny commented as she looked up from the drinks menu. And indeed it was – the space itself was small, but not overbearingly so, with a mix of both larger and smaller tables, about half of which were full, and the décor was fresh, clean, and comfortable. A small stone fireplace crackled merrily on the rear wall, and there were vases of fresh flowers on every table. It was much nicer than the average pub, but not nearly so restrictive as a fancy restaurant – in short, perfect for a casual lunch.

"Good afternoon, can I get you two something to drink?" Harry and Ginny looked up, and Ginny's eyes widened when she recognized the tall, curly-haired girl standing before them.

"Penelope?"

The waitress tilted her head to the side for a moment in contemplation before recognition lit her features.

"Ginny Weasley, is that you? My goodness, you've grown up! And Harry Potter – good to see you both."

"Er…sorry, but who are you?" Harry asked, hoping he didn't sound rude. To his relief, the girl laughed.

"Sorry about that – I'm Penelope Clearwater. I was in the same year as Percy Weasley, but in Ravenclaw." She offered a hand to Harry, and they shook.

"You were more than just year mates, Penny," Ginny said with a sly smile. Penelope blushed.

"Ok fine, I dated Percy for about a year – happy?"

"Quite." Ginny smirked, then asked, "So what are you doing around here?"

"This is my place," Penelope replied, grinning broadly. "Gemma Farley and I opened it together. It's funny, because we weren't really much more than acquaintances and fellow prefects at Hogwarts – she was a Slytherin and we didn't have many classes together – but after we'd left, we met up quite by accident in the Leaky Cauldron one afternoon. We spent some time chatting over drinks, and conversation turned to the lack of decent restaurants in the Wizarding world. Turns out we both have a not-so-secret love of cafes, and so we decided to open one – took us quite a while to find a good space and set up shop, but here we are."

"That's great!" Ginny said warmly. "I love what you've done with the place."

"Thanks – we haven't been open long, but we've done alright so far. Now, what can I get for you?"

"Hmm…well, it's your place. Any recommendations?"

"The soups," Penelope said immediately. "They're all Gemma's grandmother's recipes, and they're absolutely fantastic."

"Maybe we should try the soup and sandwich option then," Harry suggested, looking at the menu once more. Ginny agreed, and after some deliberation, Penelope returned to the kitchens with their order.

Harry's daring move of choosing an unknown restaurant turned out to be a good one – as Penelope promised, the soups were delicious, and the sandwiches, crafted on bread the two girls baked themselves, were filled with exceptionally fresh meats, cheeses, and crisp veggies. Harry and Ginny eagerly consumed every last bite, as well as two glasses each of what Penelope called Nymph's Delight, a pleasantly fizzy drink that tasted of fresh fruits and changed color with every sip. Gemma came out and introduced herself halfway through the meal, and the two hosts insisted on wrapping up a dozen of their best cookies for the couple to share with their friends. Harry and Ginny thanked the two girls profusely for such a lovely meal and wished them success before venturing back out into the cold.

As soon as they were out in the street again, Ginny threw her arms around Harry, startling him so much that he almost dropped his shopping.

"Thank you," she said softly. "You didn't have to do anything at all, not after the flowers you gave me the other day, but this was very sweet. I loved it." She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, and they both smiled as they broke apart.

"It was my pleasure," Harry replied. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Very much," Ginny agreed. She took his hand in hers, and they began to walk back towards the main road. "We should probably get you to the Three Broomsticks soon – we were in the cafe for over an hour."

The Three Broomsticks was as crowded as always on a Hogsmeade weekend, but the two Gryffindors easily found seats with a group of their friends near the far corner. They caught up on Quidditch scores and the latest Hogwarts gossip, and Harry felt much better for having to leave Ginny when he knew she was with good company. Just before two o'clock, he headed up to the bar and asked Madam Rosmerta for Hermione's whereabouts, then made his way to room three on the second floor. He knocked, and there was a bit of shuffling before Hermione opened the door.

"Come on in, Harry," she said. "Lee just left, so your timing is perfect." She shut the door behind Harry and returned to her place on one of the sofas in the private parlor, but Harry stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight before him. There were three armchairs by the fire, two of them occupied by Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey, both of whom he'd expected to see, but it was the blonde witch beside Hermione who made Harry pause.

_"Rita Skeeter?"_

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe you went to Rita Skeeter, of all people, Hermione," Harry commented as they worked in the Room of Requirement the next night. Thanks to D.A. meetings, prefect patrols, and Quidditch practices, it was a rare event indeed that all six of them had time to hang out like they used to, and they were taking full advantage of it.<p>

"Trust me, Harry – if we want people to notice this, she's definitely the one to do it," Hermione replied. "Besides, she's not allowed to write anything slanderous for a year, remember? I told her I'd turn her in if she did."

"My best friend, the blackmailer," Harry muttered, though he grinned a little. Hermione swatted his arm in response and stuck out her tongue.

"You'll thank me when the article comes out," she vowed.

"Oh, stop bickering like an old married couple, you two," Draco joked. Harry and Hermione both protested when he flashed them a cheeky grin, while Ginny, Tracey, and Blaise roared with laughter.

"Prat," Hermione grumbled, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment his way. Draco caught it deftly and promptly tossed it back.

"Love you too."

"So what do you all think of the latest History assignment?" Tracey asked then.

"It's horrible," Blaise said promptly. "Binns could've at least given us a more interesting choice of people!" Their latest History of Magic assignment was a biography on a medieval witch or wizard – instead of allowing them to choose their own subjects, however, Binns had had them choose names out of a hat, and all of them were proving rather difficult to research.

"He didn't give us much, did he?" Hermione agreed. "The only remotely interesting thing I've been able to find about my person is that he founded the first magic carpet shop in Britain – that, and he also had a strange passion for cheese."

"Strange combination," Ginny said. "I don't see how either of those really makes for an essay."

"Me neither – the shop closed long before carpets were banned here, and there's only so much you can say about cheese without just writing an essay on the subject...which, in this case, is kind of beside the point."

"Who'd you get, anyway?" Draco asked Tracey. "You must've brought it up for a reason."

"I did," Tracey acknowledged. "My witch didn't really do anything extraordinary except live to be almost ninety – which, considering the average life expectancy for someone who survived childhood at that time was roughly sixty, is rather exceptional, but certainly not enough to fill an essay. However, it's her familial connections that make her interesting."

"What's her name?" Ginny asked.

"Her name was Margery Braeburn…née Ravenclaw."

_"Ravenclaw?"_ Hermione repeated, looking shocked. Tracey nodded.

"Mhmm. She was the daughter of Alistair Ravenclaw, who was either Rowena's brother or brother-in-law – it's hard to say which, considering that none of the records about the founder say whether Ravenclaw is her birth or married surname. In any case, Margery was her niece, and by all accounts, they were quite close."

Hermione, Draco, and Harry looked at each other. Blaise and Tracey didn't know about the legend, but they'd been lacking leads for so long – could Margery Braeburn finally give them some answers? After a lengthy conversation with their eyes and the odd strange hand gesture, they decided that it couldn't hurt to let the two Slytherins in on the secret – they all trusted one another, and they needed all the help they could get.

"Trace, you might be able to help us," Harry said. He then launched into an explanation of the legend, including as much detail as he could. He told them of the Sorting Hat's prophecy and what they'd learned so far, Hermione pulling out the parchment with the exact text for them to read, and he told them about Hufflepuff's ring and what had happened when Cedric Diggory tried it on.

"This is wicked," Blaise said once Harry had finished. "And you really think these rings will help defeat the Death Eaters?"

"Well, of course," Tracey cut in before Harry could answer. When he gave her a questioning look, she said, "I take Divination too, you know – prophecies almost never come to light until they're relevant, and this one mentions an enemy. If this one follows the pattern, what other enemy would Hogwarts have? You-Know-Who's the only one who makes sense."

"Voldemort, Trace," Harry reminded her. Tracey shuddered.

"I'll get there eventually," she said. "It's harder to go around saying his name when you've grown up with people who are sympathetic to his cause."

"Alright, fine, I'll give you that."

"So you have the Hufflepuff ring, but none of the others?" Tracey asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No – which is why I got so excited when you said your person was a relative of Ravenclaw's. Since her immediate line died with her daughter, maybe Margery's will hold some answers."

"I do know a little more," Tracey admitted. "I did a little extra research, just because I was trying to see if anyone related to Margery was famous, since she herself hadn't really done anything special. One of her descendants, Thomas Bradbury, was married to a woman called Mary, who was tried and convicted during the Salem Witch Trials in America. Mary managed to escape execution – of course, she really was a witch, but she had to hide it at the time. In her honor, as well as in honor of those who were executed, one of Mary's descendants founded the Salem Witches' Institute."

"The Salem Witches' Institute was founded by a descendant of Ravenclaw?" Ginny asked. Tracey nodded.

"Basically, yes."

"Tracey, you've been a huge help, thanks," Harry said sincerely.

"Wouldn't this be a hell of a lot easier if you could just talk to the founders?" Blaise wondered. "There's got to be a portrait around here somewhere."

"Not anymore," Hermione said sadly. "It's gone." Everyone looked at her.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"When Hogwarts was first built, the founders commissioned a portrait to hang above the fireplace in the Great Hall – the story's in _Hogwarts, A History,"_ Hermione began. "It was supposed to be a symbol of their dedication to the school and its purpose, a symbol that would remain long after they were gone. The founders were thrilled at the idea of watching over generations of students to come…but the portrait didn't last."

"What happened to it?" Ginny asked.

"When Salazar Slytherin left the school – remember, he disagreed with the other founders on letting anyone but purebloods into Hogwarts – Godric Gryffindor was still so angry and upset that he cursed the portrait, silencing it. Salazar's portrait self, you see, had adamantly refused to leave even though his living counterpart was gone, and Godric couldn't take it anymore. But it wasn't a mere Silencing Charm – Helga and Rowena couldn't counter it no matter what they tried, and even Godric himself couldn't figure out exactly what he'd done to it. They tried everything but eventually had to give up and admit that the portrait was frozen for good. Helga especially was heartbroken and took the painting down – nobody knows what she did with it, but it's been gone ever since."

"That's so sad," Ginny said. "And a bit unfair that that legacy was lost just because of an argument."

"But there must've been individual portraits somewhere?" Harry questioned. Hermione shook her head.

"Not in Hogwarts, no – supposedly there's a statue of Ravenclaw in their common room, and you said there's one of Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets, but that's it. You see, back when Hogwarts was founded, prejudice against magic was running rampant, so true witches and wizards had to be extremely careful – though Slytherin's beliefs were harsh, they did have a legitimate foundation. As a result, moving portraits were rare, as it was generally too difficult to hide them effectively from non-magical company. On top of that, this was well before artists could just paint a portrait from a photograph, so the subjects actually had to sit for long hours to get their portraits done – it was risky enough that anyone took the time to get just one magical portrait made, and by all accounts, the one of the founders was quite large. The fact that they took that chance alone was astounding. I know most of the portraits in Hogwarts can move, but if you look really closely, you'll find a handful of very old ones that can't."

"So any portraits from the founders' private homes…"

"All frozen. It's really quite sad, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, then said, "At least we've got a lead on Ravenclaw though – maybe the Salem Witches' Institute will finally give us some answers."

* * *

><p><strong>A<strong>**/N: So what do we think of this latest development? & I couldn't resist throwing in a little Harry/Ginny sweetness to go with it :)**

**The thing about the portraits came to me quite randomly (while I was brushing my teeth, in fact) - I was thinking, why does canon never mention a portrait/portraits of the founders? Given their importance, there must be one _somewhere, _right? Probably in a place everyone can see it/them? & thus the story of the frozen portraits was born...**

**Fun fact of the day: while Margery Braeburn is made up, Mary Bradbury was a real person, & the details about her re: the witch trials are true as well. She's also my ancestor - since I'm a Ravenclaw, I thought it'd be fun to connect the two.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	17. Going Out with a Bang

Armed with their new lead, Harry and his friends threw themselves into their research with renewed gusto. Hermione in particular was in her element, and the Gryffindor girl was often completely hidden from view by piles of large library books as she took notes, the scratching of her quill the only evidence that she was there at all. They were disappointed in the lack of information, but what they did find was promising – the Salem Witches' Institute had indeed been founded with Ravenclaw's ideals in mind, and apparently, they even had a small archive of information dedicated to the medieval witch.

"I'm sure it's nothing like what Hogwarts has, but it couldn't hurt to contact them and ask, could it?" Hermione asked one evening. Her friends looked up from their various homework assignments to consider her question.

"I suppose," Harry finally said. "But there's just one problem – that _really_ isn't something we'd want to put in a letter, is it?" Hermione sighed.

"No, I suppose not," she agreed. It would be extremely foolish of them to send such sensitive information out so blindly, especially as they knew next to nothing about the Americans' views on the war.

"What if you actually _went_ there instead?" Ginny suggested.

"To the States, you mean?" Hermione asked, a little shocked at Ginny's idea.

"Why not?" Ginny shrugged and tossed her hair out of her eyes with a practiced flick of her head. "You, me, any of us. We have the connection to Hogwarts, so it's not like we can't come up with a valid reason for wanting to know more about Ravenclaw – you could say it was for a History of Magic essay, if you really wanted an academic excuse."

"That's not a bad idea," Blaise said with a nod. "You might as well write them and see what happens – the worst they could say is no, right?"

"But how would we get there?" Hermione asked with a frown. "Getting international Portkeys is rather difficult, from what I understand, and the Ministry's bound to give extra scrutiny to an application involving any of us – not to mention that it's very likely the Death Eaters could hear about it too-"

"The only Muggle-born in the room goes straight to international Portkeys," Draco interrupted with a chuckle. "Love, have you forgotten that Muggles can travel long distances fairly easily as well? I do believe you've been to an airport before." Hermione turned red.

"I…that is…well, I…oh, shut up," she snapped, looking rather flustered as her friends began to laugh.

"Maya, we're just teasing you," Harry assured her as Draco dropped a kiss on her forehead. Hermione batted him away with a pout, but only a few seconds passed before she gave in and allowed him to pull her close, her back to his front and their legs tangled together as they sat sideways on the sofa. They sat in silence for a long moment, contemplating this latest development.

"I suppose we can't really do anything until we send them a letter," Hermione finally said. "And perhaps I should contact my parents as well – if we're going on this trip, we'll need their help purchasing tickets, organizing passports, things like that."

"We should probably make sure they're ok with us traipsing off to another country first," Harry quipped, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Very true. Alright, we should mention that too – in fact, it's probably best if we just tell our parents about the prophecy, yeah? I know my parents won't be much help, but your mum and Sirius might be able to give us some other ideas."

"The Easter holidays are only a month away – we could talk to them then," Draco said. When Hermione made as if to protest, he added, "We've been working on this prophecy for going on three years now – I don't think one extra month is going to kill us. Besides, we already agreed that this is something we can't put in writing – we can write the letter to Salem with a purely academic focus, but we've got to talk to our parents in person."

"Leave it for Easter, Hermione," Tracey suggested calmly. "You've got enough on your plate as it is, what with homework, prefect duties, Quidditch, and the D.A. – and by the way, when should we be expecting that article?"

"Soon, I hope," Hermione said. "Umbridge has been awfully quiet lately, and that worries me. It makes me think that she's planning something."

"She's always planning something," Harry muttered darkly. "How many decrees are we up to at this point?"

"Too many," Ginny said flatly. "All the same, Hermione's right – we should definitely be prepared for something big."

* * *

><p>No matter how much they braced themselves, nothing could have prepared Harry and his friends for Umbridge's next move. Just after classes had finished on Wednesday afternoon, her girlish, simpering voice echoed throughout the halls of Hogwarts:<p>

"By order of the High Inquisitor, all students and staff will be in the Great Hall this evening by six o'clock, no exceptions. All evening activities are cancelled, and all conflicting detentions will be rescheduled. Thank you."

"What d'you reckon that's about?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"I'm not sure," Hermione replied with a frown. There was no rule that students had to attend meals at certain times – or at all, for that matter; she herself had accidentally skipped lunch on more than one occasion when she'd been immersed in a particularly interesting book, and Hogsmeade days had most older students eating at least one meal off Hogwarts grounds. Aside from Filch, Professor Trelawney, and Madam Pince, most of the staff regularly ate in the Great Hall, but it wasn't uncommon to occasionally see someone missing from the top table, so Hermione was pretty sure they weren't required to eat there either.

"You talking about that message?" Dean asked as he caught up to them.

"Yeah," Harry said. "What do you think?"

"Probably some big announcement, like she's taking over the world or something," Dean said with a snort. "After all, she'd want everyone to know about that, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, Dean, why would you even _suggest_ such a thing?" Hermione groaned, looking properly horrified. The boys laughed at her expression, though Dean quickly assured her that he too wouldn't want to hear anything of the sort. Once they reached the common room, Draco joined the conversation via charmed parchment, but it seemed the Slytherins were just as confused as everyone else.

Dinner that night was an exceptionally quiet affair. As requested, everyone was present save for two or three students confined to the hospital wing with contagious ailments, but hardly anybody dared speak, especially when six o'clock came and went without so much as a peep from Umbridge. In fact, the esteemed High Inquisitor wasn't there at all, and when twenty minutes had gone by with no sign of her, people began to fidget.

At twenty-seven minutes past six, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and everyone watched as a small group of people marched swiftly up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Professor Umbridge led the procession, followed closely by Minister Fudge, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a short, gray-haired man Harry didn't recognize, Percy Weasley, and a witch covered head to toe in a thick cloak. Harry couldn't be sure, but the witch seemed to be sniffling slightly, as if she'd been crying. Umbridge strode confidently towards the teachers' table, where she finally stopped and removed a piece of parchment from her robes before turning to face the assembled students.

_"Hem, hem._ The following students should remain seated – the rest of you are dismissed. Hermione Granger…Draco Black…Ginny Weasley…Dean Thomas…Lee Jordan…" Umbridge continued reading from the piece of parchment in her hand, and Harry's stomach dropped abruptly when he realized that everyone on her list was a member of the D.A.

"Susan Bones…Harry Potter…Daphne Greengrass…Adrian Pucey," Umbridge concluded. When nobody moved, she barked, "Out – now!" Benches scraped against stone as those who hadn't been called hastened to obey, and the Great Hall emptied faster than Harry thought was possible. As soon as the last student had gone, Umbridge gave the D.A. members a triumphant smile.

"Well," she said softly. _"Well._ Didn't think I would find out, did you? My, my, what a terrible mistake you've made." She tutted again before primly clasping her hands together.

"All organizations within these walls were disbanded by Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, and none were to form again without my express permission," Umbridge said. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that a student club has been meeting for _months_ without my knowledge or approval. Explain yourselves!" She practically growled the last command, but to their credit, none of the students so much as flinched. They were all surprised, however, when Hermione raised her hand a few moments later.

"Miss Granger," Umbridge acknowledged her with a nod. "Are you going to enlighten us?"

"I actually had a question, Professor," Hermione said. "Who's under that cloak?"

"I don't believe that's any concern of yours, Miss Granger," Umbridge said with a girlish giggle.

"Oh, but I do believe it is," Hermione replied coolly. "Mine, as well as everyone else's. I'd love to hear what she has to say."

"She?" Harry repeated quietly. He had a feeling Hermione knew who the cloaked witch was, but he hadn't the faintest idea.

"Pay attention, Harry," Hermione hissed back. "Who's missing? Whose name didn't she call?" Harry began scanning the assembled faces, but Umbridge beat him to it.

"Yes, of course," she simpered. "It's alright, dear – you did the right thing. Now, take off that silly hood and tell dear Professor Dumbledore what you told me." Nobody missed the poisonous tone she employed when speaking the headmaster's name. The cloaked witch hesitated but finally drew back her hood, revealing a curly head of hair they all recognized. It was Marietta Edgecombe.

"There's a good girl," Umbridge said. "Now, do as I asked and tell everyone your story." Marietta, who'd been gazing steadfastly at the floor, slowly raised her head, and several people gasped as they caught sight of her face. Her skin was barely visible beneath the giant purple spots covering her face, the word they spelled out visible even from the back of the hall: SNEAK. It was acne far beyond any teenager's worst nightmare, and as soon as she heard the gasps, Marietta let out a distressed wail and dragged her hood back up over her head, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she moaned.

"Never mind the spots," Umbridge said impatiently. "Tell your story!" Marietta only shook her head and wailed louder.

"Fine," Umbridge snapped. "I'll tell them." She turned to face the assembled D.A. members once more.

"Earlier this afternoon, Miss Edgecombe came to me with a _very_ interesting story. She told me that she knew of a secret organization, one whose purpose was to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts in ways that blatantly went against Ministry regulations. Unfortunately, this…_hex_ kicked in at that point and she spotted her reflection in my office mirror and refused to say anything further, but she'd already told me everything I needed to know. She was also kind enough to give me this list, which, of course, confirms all of you to be guilty."

"And here is where I must interrupt you, Dolores," Dumbledore said then, standing from his seat in the middle of the staff table. The students gazed at him curiously, wondering what he had to say.

"Oh?" Umbridge said, her girlish simper returning full force. "And what could you possibly have to say to that, Headmaster?"

"What proof do you have that this supposed group met anytime after the passage of Educational Decree Twenty-Four?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "It is true that they met once before, yes, but can you say for certain that they've met since?"

"How would you know that they met before the passage of the decree?" Umbridge asked sharply.

"It's quite simple," Dumbledore said, in a tone as if he were merely discussing the weather. "Look at that parchment again, Dolores – what does it say?" Umbridge narrowed her eyes at him but reread the parchment as he'd suggested.

"Dumbledore's Army," she murmured quietly, though every student somehow still heard her.

"Dumbledore's Army?" Fudge repeated, speaking for the first time. _"Dumbledore's_ Army?"

"Precisely, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a vague smile.

"Oho! So you've been behind this all along!" Fudge crowed. "I come here to expel students, and instead, I get to arrest you! Scheming behind my back this entire time, you've been!" Percy Weasley was scribbling furiously in the corner – Harry suspected he was in charge of recording the proceedings.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Cornelius," Dumbledore said jovially.

"Wrong, Dumbledore?" Fudge spat. "Oh, no – not this time."

"Oh, yes. You see, I have no intention of being arrested – not tonight, at least," Dumbledore replied. "You still have a lot to learn, my friend – do forgive me for saying so."

Harry thought a vein was going to burst in Fudge's temple, the man was so mad. He commanded Kingsley and the other Auror to do something, but before anyone could so much as blink, Dumbledore whistled sharply, and Fawkes the phoenix materialized overhead. Fawkes let out a trill of phoenix song, the students gazing at him in awestruck wonder, and glided over to his master, who grasped the bird's tail feathers tightly. There was a blinding flash and a bang, and by the time everyone stopped seeing spots, the intruding adults were all knocked out cold and Dumbledore was gone.

"To your common rooms, all of you," Professor McGonagall ordered, though she was shaking badly. The D.A. obeyed without a second thought. What on earth had just happened?

* * *

><p>The next morning, all anyone could talk about was the mysterious events of the night before. The rest of the student body hounded the D.A. members for information, but they were just as confused as everybody else. Nobody really knew how Dumbledore had escaped, nor why Umbridge didn't seem to recall the names of any of the students she'd held back. All anyone knew for sure was that Dumbledore was gone, and according to the decree that had hit the <em>Prophet<em> before breakfast, Umbridge had replaced him as head of Hogwarts.

"Just what we needed," Harry grumbled as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. "The last thing that hag needs is more power."

"Ah, but that doesn't mean we can't still mess her around," George Weasley contradicted.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her fruit-filled fork hovering in midair as she paused to look at him.

"Hermione," Fred chided, "George and I would've ditched Hogwarts ages ago if we weren't determined to stick around and help the Order as best we could. Our life goal is to open a joke shop – you don't exactly need N.E.W.T.s for that." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Fred quickly silenced her with a look.

"I'm serious, Hermione. George and I can't stand to see that old toad sitting up there in Dumbledore's chair acting like she owns the place. I heard the gargoyle won't let her in the head's office, but she's still got the title, and we want to do something about it. We don't need the formal marks, and she's been so bloody awful that we want to give her a taste of her own medicine – I know the article's due to go to press soon, but we can't just sit back and let her think she's won in the meantime." Hermione finally put her fork down and nodded.

"You're right," she said. "I just…don't want you to get caught, that's all. Knowing her, she'd do much worse than expel you."

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione," George said, shaking his head slightly. "You're forgetting one very important thing."

"What's that?" she asked, genuinely curious. George gave her a slightly eerie grin.

"Have you _ever_ known us to get caught?"

It wasn't hard to figure out what Fred and George's plan was, as it went into action shortly after lunch. Everyone was leaving the Great Hall for afternoon classes when a colossal explosion shook the castle, and the cause of the explosion was immediately evident when they saw the gigantic fireworks careening through the corridors. Huge Catherine wheels spun lethally through the air, sparklers wrote swear words in midair, and several massive dragons set off through the castle, letting off earsplitting roars and spitting multicolored sparks as they went. Umbridge, who'd come bursting out of her office demanding to know what was going on, shrieked as a sizzling rocket shot towards her, and when she tried to Stun it, it exploded with such force that Umbridge was thrown clear to the other end of the corridor, landing hard on her backside. Filch, who rather liked Umbridge and her views on punishment, was doing his best to help, but the broom he'd been using to bat at the fireworks was already ablaze, and his Squib status meant he couldn't do much more.

Rather than fizzle out like normal fireworks, these creations seemed to gain in strength the longer they burned, and as a result, Umbridge spent her first day as headmistress chasing them all over the school. The students were rather hard pressed to decide which they liked more – the impressive pyrotechnics, or the sight of a thoroughly disheveled Umbridge as she stumbled into her office in defeat later that night, a rogue sparkler still singeing her hair with naughty words as it followed her every move.

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><p><strong>AN: Next chapter - the article goes to print! Who's ready for it?**

**Thank you for all the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


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